


My Soul Strengthens

by Rvlakia



Series: The Elder Kind [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: But also New Writing, Dragons, Fluff, High Fantasy, M/M, Old Writing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rvlakia/pseuds/Rvlakia
Summary: Convening in a small parlour, Talutah shut the doors behind them and then affixed Plyrith with a look that demanded he tell her everything. He folded his arms and rested his weight on the table there, Massa sitting in the padded windowsill. “The King has demanded we get married.”Plyrith knew his current peace would never last, but this wasn't how he expected things to go. Now he's faced with a choice of a furious lover (that could raze the city to the ground) or risking himself on a quest (that is almost certainly fruitless). In theory it's a difficult decision... but he already knows which he'd rather.





	My Soul Strengthens

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously a continuation of On the Horizon. I actually started writing this in Autumn 2015 but kept losing it - finally I had the chance to type it up! You might want to check the word count before embarking on this quest...
> 
> Once again, suffer at the hands of my clumsy romance 'skills' :3

 

 

 

To describe his father’s attention as a double-edged sword was an understatement. True, Plyrith had access to more funds than before, had more respect, but it also meant that each and every one of his brothers were searching for any weakness he might have. In fact, the king himself would be the most dangerous if he found a way to make Plyrith submit, since any failing Etarip found would rule the prince out of the competition for the throne. Thankfully, Plyrith knew what his weakness was already and could keep it hidden. Not to mention, that weakness could take care of itself.

Massa made a low grumbling sound as he turned over in his sleep, a sound Plyrith had come to learn meant the man was content. Still unconscious, Massa burrowed further under the sheets and adopted a habitual curled-up form, the top of his head nudging into his companion’s side. Certainly, having the dragon around reduced the need for heating in Plyrith’s room, since his body radiated warmth every time he forgot to control his temperature, which was often but rarely problematic; it wasn’t like he had to hide his true nature from anyone in court or the castle, and he actually seemed to get a rush of pleasure from unsettling those around him with his inhuman customs. It amused the prince too, particularly when Massa’s stomach growled and every maid in the vicinity fainted.

Plyrith stretched, placing both hands beneath his head as he stared at the dark patterns in the curtains of the four-poster, creating silhouettes against a backlight of the sunshine streaming through the windows. Someone had already been here, then, to let in air. Well, he wagered that they were still in the room, judging by the odd sounds that resulted from a person trying too hard to be quiet as they performed tasks. He couldn’t see who it was but it was probably one of the servants, and Plyrith found himself grateful for the curtains around the bed; it was one thing for everyone to know that Massa was a dragon, and quite another for them to know exactly where he slept each night. If that rumour got around then the next day would see Plyrith’s head on a plate. There had already been a close call, but thankfully the length of Massa’s hair had caused the maid to mistake him for a lover from the town, of which it was quite customary for the princes to have several of at any one time.

There was a sudden noise at the door, followed by a hurried whispering. Plyrith sighed, knowing that it signalled the end of his rest (it was likely late morning anyway) and waited to be disturbed.

“Your Highness?” came the hesitant address, and he was aware that the maid was standing only a metre or so from the bed now. “There’s a message from His Majesty, for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Plyrith dragged his legs out from under the sheets and pulled the curtain back just enough for him to slip out but for Massa to remain hidden. Ignoring the maid’s red expression and pathetic attempt not to stare, he made for his closet. “Let’s hear it then,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir. His Majesty requires you attend luncheon at the Court today, to discuss matters of import.”

Plyrith clucked his tongue. As if there would be discussion of any sort. No, he would be told what to do and when to do it by, then be expected to do it without so much as a word. Still it did no good for him to be disobedient at this point in time. “Tell father I shall be there soon.”

 

* * *

 

Plyrith wasn’t expecting anyone to be waiting for him when he left the King’s presence, let alone two persons. Talutah and Massa both – the latter sitting in the window archway with his feet dangling on the outside of the building – turned to him upon hearing his approach.

“So what is it now?” Talutah asked, not showing anything near the kind of respect that the Etarip would expect from a neighbouring country’s princess.

“Perhaps we should move elsewhere before talking of this,” Plyrith suggested, not failing to note the subtle watching of a few courtiers chittering down the hallway, some of whom he had no doubt had borne one of his brothers or sisters. Talutah, catching on, nodded and took his arm for the sake of showmanship, something that never failed to make Massa frown even though he wouldn’t speak up about it in front of anyone else but his mate.

Convening in a small parlour, Talutah shut the doors behind them and then affixed Plyrith with a look that demanded he tell her everything. He folded his arms and rested his weight on the table there, Massa sitting in the padded windowsill. “The King has demanded we get married.”

“That is certainly nothing new,” Talutah frowned. “There is more, isn’t there?”

“The date has been set. There’s no more holding out until he dies then cancelling it, or even maintaining what we have now.”

Plyrith was suddenly aware of the smell of something burning and, guessing the source, turned to see Massa practically throttling the drapes even as they disintegrated beneath his fingers from the sheer heat of his fury. “I will not allow it,” Massa hissed, locking eyes with Plyrith. “I’ll kill him if he tries. I’ll kill _her_ if I have to.” His focus switched to Talutah, a truly predatory look in his eyes that usually remained hidden.

“Whoa, calm down,” Plyrith said, taking a step toward his partner. “It’s just a marriage, Massa. No one expects us to actually be faithful to one another.” His reaction to the news was baffling to the prince, not to mention he had thought that Massa and Talutah were actually getting along quite well with one another. Just the other day he had been helping her to bewitch someone into running into a wall a thousand times over.

“That’s not the point,” the dragon growled, pulling the curtain so hard that the wooden rail splintered in half and the fabric tumbled to the floor. “Binding ceremonies have magic in them, even human ones. And I refuse to have any part of you belong to someone else.”

“It’s understandable,” Talutah said, seemingly unconcerned about the whole thing. “But Massa, what do you suggest we do? Plyrith and I must marry; there isn’t anything we can do about that.”

The blond frowned. “Get rid of the King?”

“Not possible,” Plyrith replied, shaking his head. “Even if we stage a successful coup – which we won’t – that just makes my life free game for anyone else. Killing the King means killing ourselves.”

Talutah tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin. “If it’s magic then… perhaps we can supersede it? Negate it somehow?”

Massa shook his head. “Binding magic is absolute. Once it’s in place, nothing can change, replace or remove it. Nothing.”

There was a moment of silence as they thought. Massa, slightly calmer now but still angry, leant his head against the window and stared out at the Whistlers circling above, gaining altitude to begin long journeys with the messages they carried. Plyrith watched him for a time, studying the way the noon sun made his hair glow. “Wait,” he said, an idea occurring. “Nothing can affect them? Not even another binding?”

Massa glanced at him in confusion. “No.”

“Then it’s simple. All we have to do is get married first. That way, my state marriage won’t count.”

“That does sound reasonable,” Talutah agreed. “Massa?”

The dragon had an odd expression, not anger or derision, just concern. It was obvious that he knew that Plyrith’s idea would work, and yet something was still causing him to hesitate. “The problem with that is… me. I’m an Elder Kind, so a human ceremony would not suffice.”

“That’s fine. It’s not like we need anyone else to know about it anyway,” Plyrith said.

“Yes, well, it might be a little more difficult than that,” Massa snapped. “There are a couple of things we’d need, and I’m not sure if we’ll be able to find them.”

“Like what?” Talutah asked, her curiosity piqued as it always was when Massa began talking about Elder Kind customs.

“Mostly just small pieces. The main issue is about who will officiate the ceremony. Since there’s no possible way we could get another seven of my kind, we would need a noble, and I don’t know if any exist around here.”

Plyrith saw the way Talutah’s face lit up at the word ‘noble’, knowing that she was excited by the prospect of a hierarchical system. But now wasn’t the time for that so he quickly cut in before she could say anything about it. “So we find a noble. We can do that.”

“How long have we got?” Talutah asked, now refocused on the topic at hand.

“Until the snowdrops bloom. Four, maybe five, months.”

Massa looked at them sceptically. “You’re serious about this? There’s not even a trace of a noble in the country. This King you’re so sure will defeat you won’t find it odd that you’ve run off just before your wedding?”

“Actually, it isn’t unusual for a man to have a final quest right before his marriage,” Talutah explained. “It’s a mite archaic, but I’m sure we could pass that off as the reason.”

“Are you really agreeable to that?” Plyrith asked. Pulling out that tradition would mean applying the others tied to it, like the other party secluding themselves for the duration of the quest.

“A chance to be by myself and out of these nets?” Talutah replied sarcastically, referring to the gold threads keeping her hair bound. “I relish the thought. Just make sure you’re back by the deadline, or else I’m dead.”

“Naturally.”

 

* * *

 

Plyrith could feel Massa watching him as he got into bed. The blond was obviously in no mood for anything physical that night, content to simply watch the stars from the window. Not that the prince minded, since it gave him a chance to rest properly before they left in two days’ time, their departure agreed upon by the King and arranged by Talutah so as to give the maximum possible period for them to find the elusive items they required.

“Plyr?” Massa said quietly, his eyes gleaming in a draconic way that reminded the prince often about how he didn’t quite fit into the human lifestyle. His food was always cooked separately too, meat burnt black on the outside whilst positively raw in the centre, just the way Massa liked it.

“Mhhm?”

“Since you actually seem to believe we can do this… I’ll trust you to do it.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Yes.” Massa looked away, and it hurt to see the desire to fly out from the castle in his eyes. “You’ll need to get something before we go. Something precious.”

“Oh?” Plyrith yawned. “I’ll grab something from the treasury tomorrow then.”

“ _No_ ,” the dragon replied, switching to his more natural way of conversing. “ _It must be yours alone, not the King’s. Precious, not necessarily expensive. An item with sentimental value.”_

Plyrith pondered it. Massa must have known the difficulty of what he was asking. He was well aware that the prince wasn’t capable of treasuring much outside of the dragon himself, but it was obviously important. “ _Then I’ll bring–”_

_“Do not tell me!”_ Massa snapped. _“The binding ceremony of the Elder Kind truly begins when you decide upon the item. If you tell me, the magic will break!”_

_“I won’t say then,_ ” Plyrith agreed. The expression Massa was wearing lightened again, actually smiling as he twisted his face to look at the human.

“ _Good. Sleep, Horizonborne. I will be here when you wake.”_

 

* * *

 

The date they departed was one of those rare sunny days in the autumn period, forcing puddles to disappear and allowing everyone to walk outside without fear of becoming drenched. Massa was already waiting in the courtyard when Plyrith finally made it out, having had to officially say goodbye to Talutah before he left. The maids and manservants were all giving Massa a wide berth, with the exception of one or two new hands who hadn’t yet encountered the gossip about him, or simply didn’t recognise the subject of it if they had. As it stood, there was actually a young lady belonging to a visiting party of an allied nation sat beside Massa on the stony wall of the raised flowerbeds, drivelling away at him and seemingly unaware of the fact that he wasn’t listening to her in the slightest. Suffice to say, she was caught off-guard when Massa suddenly got to his feet, having seen Plyrith approaching.

The prince glanced down at the lady cynically, holding himself back from laughing at her lest he inadvertently insult someone that the King had plans on negotiating with, such as her father or uncle or whomever it was that decided it would be wise to bring her to the castle of Etarip. “Are you ready to go?” he asked Massa, turning his attention away from her.

“Yes. The training grounds or here?”

The lost look on the lady’s face incited a wicked streak in the both of them. “I should think here is suitable.”

“As you wish.”

The moment Massa began stripping was when she was aware that something odd was happening. The fact that she actually squealed in surprise when he removed his trousers made it all worth it and Plyrith allowed himself a smirk, taking the discarded clothing that was offered to him and stowing it away in his pack. Then, Massa changed.

At some point the lady had fainted, likely having no experience with even the meekest of dragons. An Elder Kind in the courtyard was certainly a step too far for many, the surrounding servants having fled as soon as they saw the tell-tale signs that Prince Plyrith was taking his trophy out into the skies. It was one of the few open spaces in the castle grounds large enough for Massa to transform, and it wasn’t as if the King would be upset over a few flowers flattened by wingbeats. For Plyrith, making the display helped him to maintain a healthy level of fear and respect around the entire city as it reminded people that he had the greatest dragon in existence under his control. Well, ‘control’ wasn’t quite the term he would use for it, but he let them believe that was the case.

“ _Hurry up_ ,” Massa huffed, impatient as the prince stepped up over his head and into the hollow on his neck that was the natural area to sit. Though not the most comfortable of places one could be seated, the finely grooved scales made it surprisingly difficult to fall out from, not to mention the view it provided of Massa’s wings which were currently being unfurled. The colour of dawn, they were, something that Plyrith knew Massa enjoyed being praised about; one precisely timed compliment could manipulate the dragon into things he might not have ordinarily done that day. “ _You kept me waiting, and now it’s time to go!”_

“ _Calm down, I’m ready,_ ” Plyrith placated once he was sure there was no chance any of their luggage would be lost. Immediately, Massa began the takeoff, rising straight up in the air with each and every one of his wingbeats in a fashion that remarkably few dragons were capable of. For this trip, Plyrith had resigned to leave behind his trusted Jekyll mount, Ulise, since the distance that they had to cover was too great in the limited time that they had. Not only did they have to leave the country, they might also have to leave the continent in order to find any surviving noble. Now high above the city, Massa turned north and began a glide out over the houses, which quickly turned to farmland and then to forest. Here, the full wingbeats could assume their rightful course and a decent speed could be reached, one that wouldn’t tire Massa out too quickly but would also let them cover enough ground. “ _So how will we know where to go?”_ Plyrith wondered.

“ _There are so few of my kind left, it should be easy for me to sense them once we’re relatively close. But for now, I’m just headed to get one of the required items.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“A tree.”_ Sensing the look on the prince’s face even though he couldn’t see it, Massa amended, “ _Just a stick of it will do, really. I know it as reveri raka by the old tongue. You might know it as… witchwood, I believe.”_

_“Talutah may have mentioned it once.”_

_“I daresay she would. It’s a tree with highly magical properties, favoured by the humans that gave it its common name. But for sure, it is a very particular plant that abhors humanity, and given that you’ve spread everywhere… there’s not much left.”_

_“But you know where to go?”_

_“There is a place. It is maintained at all costs by one of my kind, or so my grandfather said. Hopefully it still stands.”_

_“And then we work out where to go from there?”_

Massa didn’t reply, just made a deep noise in his chest that was meant as an affirmative.

 

* * *

 

Three days saw them long out of Croath, past TanBaa and into Lemcu. The distance was great, and yet Plyrith was painfully aware that they were still within his father’s kingdom. Brutal in his younger days, most of the surrounding lands and some outer colonies had fallen to the might of Etarip and his army, never to know independence again for many a generation. Talutah was always predicting that eventually one of the King’s descendants would prove too soft and a great upheaval would take place, and Plyrith was inclined to agree with her. The weak link would not be himself, however.

The prince was caught off-guard when Massa dropped height, banking to the left and entering a downward spiral that meant he was going to land. Obviously he had seen something from his grandfather’s tales, or sensed it in the same way he sensed many things thanks to his body and its natural resonance with the world. The area below them was thick with trees so Massa was forced to crush some of them with his huge claws as they contacted the ground, dust kicking up around then. Picking up their travel pack and slinging it over his shoulders, Plyrith jumped off of Massa directly to one of the trees that was still upright, a tall and sturdy pine that exuded its scent in a fresh wave every time he moved from one branch down to the next, finally dropping the last few feet and bending his knees to lessen the impact when he hit the earth. By the time he had dusted himself off Massa had already returned to human form and was waiting, holding his hand out for his clothes. They were easy to drag out of the bag, packed specifically for ease of access. Plyrith watched as Massa dressed; the clothes the dragon owned now were of far better quality than those he had worn when they first met, and fit him better too. As it turned out, the loose peasant outfit hadn’t even belonged to him in the first place, appropriated from one of the knaves who had met their end in the forest. That wasn’t to say Massa had killed him, but the blond certainly didn’t deny it when asked if he had eaten him.

“It ought to be around here,” Massa said once fully covered. “Although it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone guarding it.” Despite saying ‘anyone’, Plyrith knew Massa meant an Elder Kind. The sadness in his voice was tangible, obviously dismayed that not even a protected location retained the life that it should have. “Stay close,” Massa warned. “I don’t want you getting lost.”

“I won’t,” the prince promised, moving to stand close enough behind Massa that it made his face flush.

“Not _that_ close. Back - there, better. Now let’s go.”

Adjusted to a more polite distance, Plyrith followed the exact footsteps of his companion as they forged their way through the pine trees. In order not to accidentally damage the target of the search, Massa had put them down a fair distance away from where he thought the witchwood should actually be, now following his nose more than anything. The pines loomed over the pair, threatening from this perspective and producing a remarkably eerie feeling that made Plyrith’s hackles raise. He was sure they were being watched, and yet Massa showed no signs of concern so it was unlikely they actually were.

Even resigning himself to the fact that he was wrong didn’t make the sensation go away, however. If anything, his unease grew the further they into the forest they progressed, sunlight being blocked by the verdant needles high above. The sudden sound of a twig snapping behind them had Plyrith whirling around to face it, hand on the hilt of his sword and ready to draw it. Even in his haste he still hadn’t lost all sensibilities, so thankfully didn’t end up waving his blade at the empty air he was faced with. “Massa, did you hear that?” he queried, brow furrowed as he failed to see anything that could have caused a sound remarkably close by. “Massa?” Receiving no response, Plyrith turned to find out what had distracted Massa so entirely – only to find no one there.

How could this be? No more than two seconds could have passed since he last was looking at the man, and yet he’d completely disappeared. It wasn’t like Massa was particularly stealthy either, which only left the sinister options, such as that he had been abducted. By magic, most likely. Perhaps a witch or warlock seeking the appropriately named witchwood? Whatever the situation, Plyrith had to find Massa, and preferably soon.

Hours of searching ensued, both for his partner and the plant, and soon Plyrith found himself sick of the sight and smell of pine trees, determining to have all of the same in Croath removed once he became king. It was a petty resolution, one he made only out of sheer frustration that he couldn’t seem to do a single thing correctly; in fact, he was almost convinced he had been turned around at some points and thus had passed through the same areas on multiple occasions, though ordinarily he prided himself on his excellent navigation skills. Never before had he gotten – he was at loathe to admit it – _lost_ , and to encounter such a situation now could hardly be coincidence. Even calling out with his mind proved fruitless and that concerned him even more since it took a good few miles of distance between them before Massa could no longer hear him, so unless the dragon had been moved horrendously quickly it meant he wasn’t conscious enough to communicate.

Cursing in frustration, Plyrith kicked the tree trunk closest to him, his sole landing with enough force to make the entire plant shake to the very ends of its twigs. Before he could turn away a cry of surprise emitted from the tree - or rather, from the person that had been nestled in the branches and had now fallen out, rendered head-first on the ground. Immediately wary, Plyrith tightened his grip on his sword and directed it toward the stranger’s throat with a steady hand that betrayed none of his distress. “Stay where you are.”

The man blinked in bewilderment, eyes straining to make sense of Plyrith and the world around, upside down as he was. “Um, if you insist…?” A heavy silence fell between them as they each studied the other, gathering clues to explain the situation they found themselves in. The stranger was plainly male but of indeterminable age; within the same thought Plyrith considered him an elder and a youth and everything possible in human range. His clothes were old and worn yet remarkably well-cut, as if tailored several decades past for the exact physique he was now. At his waist lay a belt holding a scavenger’s knife on one side and a pouch on the other, the latter item bulging with egg-like shapes that had it splitting at the seams.

“Who are you?” Plyrith finally asked, staring down at him coldly.

“Pablo,” the stranger replied. “My name is Pablo. And you are?”

The prince ignored the question, opting instead to test if this ‘Pablo’ was an enemy or not. “Have you seen another man around here? Long, blond hair, blue eyes, about this tall?” He gestured with his free hand. How the man responded would allow Plyrith to judge his sincerity.

“You know, I actually did? I had thought it was quite odd, since I’m the only person who lives around here, not to mention he seemed particularly angry about something: I don’t know what.”

Plyrith frowned as he blathered on. There wasn’t a hint of a lie, added to which Pablo didn’t appear concerned about the blade held to him. Considering, the prince finally untensed, sheathing the sword and indicating for the man to right himself. Unless Pablo was a stunningly good liar, Massa was alone, awake and angry – in other words, he was safe. As safe as one could be in such a remote forest. “That man is my friend,” he confessed once Pablo was standing. “If you live here, surely you know where he might be by now. Help me find him.”

“Of course,” Pablo agreed readily with a smile. “We must head to my house first.”

 

* * *

 

Needless to say, Plyrith had been a little dubious about following a stranger to his isolated home in the forest, but as Pablo couldn’t help but bubble with asinine chatter for the entire way the prince began to consider the good opportunity he had for murder. If he hadn’t been relying on the man then there was every possibility he would already be in pieces. As it turned out, Pablo hadn’t been understating when he said his home was close and within quarter of an hour the trees began to thin into a clearing that hosted several small fields of crops and shrubberies that they hadn’t seen anywhere else in the forest. At the centre of the space sat a modest hut that blended comfortably with its surroundings. Attached to the rear of it was a high fence that even Plyrith couldn’t see anything over, which only piqued his curiosity more. But before that… waiting by the front door was Massa, cross-legged and impatiently watching as they headed his way.

Plyrith picked up his pace to reach the blond sooner. “You’re safe,” he sighed in relief as Massa stood.

“Of course I am, you fool,” Massa scowled, reaching up to fold his arms around Plyrith’s neck to bring them closer together. “If anything, _you_ were the one in trouble. What did you let yourself get caught by Conundrums for?”

“What?”

Sighing, Massa pointed to the pine trees. Plyrith stared at one for a while, and suddenly a section of bark about the size of his foot detached and scuttled further up the trunk then twisted its head around to reveal an enormous pair of dish eyes. Meeting its gaze made Plyrith a little lightheaded but now that he knew it was there that was all it could do to him. Conundrums were a unique species of dragon that favoured places saturated with magic and were most commonly used as wards to protect precious items; the unwary could be caught in their eyes and have their mind overwritten according to the whims of the dragon, which was usually to confuse thieves on the whereabouts of assigned treasures. Plyrith put the pieces together in his head – he’d been enchanted and wandered off, while Massa had noticed the presence of the beasts. A huge quantity of Conundrums would have been required for such a heavy delusion, and now that he was looking Plyrith could see them crawling all over the trees, practically an infestation.

“You see?” Massa huffed, pulling at the ends of his partner’s hair to punish him. “Don’t let your guard down.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

“Am I interrupting?” Pablo wondered, obviously trying to get to the door that they were blocking. Massa peered around Plyrith as the pair moved, staring at the stranger in both mistrust and amazement whilst he unlocked the entrance and headed inside. “Come in, come in.”

Oddly quiet, Massa followed the instruction. The interior of the hut wasn’t hugely well-lit so Pablo threw some dusty curtains open to brighten the place, clearing aside some of the clutter to locate stools and chairs that looked like they’d been buried for a hundred years. He arranged them around a table near the front of the single room; at the back stood an elaborately carved wooden folding screen presumably hiding his bed from sight, and another door that must have led out into the walled area behind the building.

“I have a lot of free time,” Pablo explained as he caught Plyrith studying the carved screen. Then he supplemented with, “and not a lot of guests,” brushing dust off the chairs with a spare rag. “There, much better.”

Plyrith didn’t quite agree with him but kept his silence on behalf of Massa, who was watching Pablo intently. “Who are you?” Massa murmured beneath his breath, just loud enough for them to hear.

“Me? I’m Pablo.”

“No, not you. The other one!”

The prince was perplexed since there was only the three of them there, but it looked as if Pablo actually understood what he meant. “What’s wrong?” Plyrith asked his companion, not wanting to be out of the loop.

“He has _two Agnomina_ ,” Massa hissed. “No one has two Agnomina! Not even when I- when Curtia- _it’s impossible!_ ”

Hearing Massa backtracking over his own words felt like someone had stabbed him. Plyrith placed a steadying hand on the blond’s shoulder but had no idea if it actually helped to comfort him. The revelation of Pablo having multiple Agnomina weighed heavily, but explained why the man gave off such a strange aura. Naturally, it was one Agnomen per being, which meant he was _unnatural_ ; Plyrith could see the thoughts running through Massa’s head now – what if _he’d_ managed to stabilise two souls? What if he’d been able to save his sister? – a poison that would spread into every fibre of him if Plyrith didn’t stop it.

“ _Calm down,_ ” he instructed straight into Massa’s mind, causing a pair of startlingly blue eyes to snap to him.

“ _I can’t. I don’t understand how he… why did it work for him and not…”_

_“He will explain, and you will see. There was nothing you could have done, my Bringing the Great Dawn._ ”

Massa’s face darkened and he turned away, but his demeanour showed that he’d accepted what Plyrith said so would hold his judgement for a moment more.

“Really, your kind are so rude,” Pablo exhaled, having watched the silent conversation transpire.

“My kind?”

“Yes, the Elder Kind.” Pablo sat on one of the chairs he had found and gestured for them to sit opposite. “Just as you can see our Agnomen, we can see yours, and we know you.” He removed the pouch from his belt and emptied it carefully onto the table, a flurry of pinecones spilling out. He pushed them around absently with the tip of his finger.

“We?” Plyrith queried when it seemed Massa was too stumped to.

“Yes. Me and Lola.” He picked up one of the pinecones and held it right in front of his face, examining it for flaws. “She is one of the Elder Kind too. Only, she abandoned her body and is using mine.”

“H-how? Why?” Massa leant across the table.

“Same as everyone else. Hunted down by humans. But before she could be killed, she separated her soul and attached it to one of the hunters’. It’s a transfer only the Elder Kind can survive and maintain.” Deciding there was nothing wrong with the pinecone, he threw it onto a pile of its brothers in the fireplace before picking another up. “They returned here to guard the forest as was her duty. Lola has switched hosts a number of times since then, for about three hundred years. One day I will grow old and the Conundrums will lead someone else here to take my place as her host.”

Plyrith could see the look on Massa’s face, the muted delight that his grandfather’s tale had held true and there would indeed always be a guardian in the forest. His disappointment at not sensing another of his brethren when they arrived had gone (although the pain of remembering Curtia still lingered), replaced by the knowledge that the dragon’s presence was masked by a human body. “Can we speak to Lola?” the prince asked.

Pablo honestly looked sorrowful as he shook his head. “I’m afraid she’s not much more than energy and memories in my head. Sometimes I get impressions of what she needs me to do, but not much more than that. Still,” the pinecone he had in hand failed and went back into the pouch, “that is not the matter at hand now, is it? You came here for something.”

“The reveri raka,” Massa supplied, not tripping on the pronunciation like Plyrith had when he’d tried to say it a few days prior. “We need some for a bonding ceremony.”

“In this day and age?” Pablo said incredulously even as he stood and made for the back door. “The chances of you finding a soulmate must be phenomenal.”

A glance between the pair had them in accord that Pablo somehow hadn’t worked out that Plyrith was his soulmate. “Right,” Massa agreed with him eventually, opting not to correct the misunderstanding. “It came as a bit of a surprise to me too.”

Pablo unlatched the door and pulled it inward, and the three of them made their way out into the walled area. Contained within it were six trees with thin trunks made of dark wood, their spreading crowns still laden with rich green even at this time of year. Scattered about the outermost twigs were tiny berries that seemed to emit light; when neither of the men were looking, Plyrith picked one to get a better look at it. Spherical, about the size of a blueberry, the centre composed of a pure white flesh protected by a thick clear layer flecked with gold. So, they didn’t produce light themselves; it was their perfect structure recasting the sun that created the illusion of faeries living in the leaves.

“Try not to touch them,” Pablo warned over his shoulder, having not seen Plyrith’s transgression. “They dislike humanity. Thankfully, having Lola’s soul makes them consider me as a dragon.”

“Of course,” Plyrith agreed, the berry already sagging and turning to mush in his hand. He dropped it and kicked some dirt over to hide the evidence.

“Take whichever bit is best for you,” Pablo said to Massa. The blond paced the trees a while before gravitating to one at the far end of the tiny orchard, pointing out the section he wanted. As Pablo skilfully hacked it off with his knife Massa beckoned for Plyrith to hand him a piece of fabric they’d packed in their bag. Carefully, he swaddled the branch – which was just about the length of his forearm – in the cloth then tied it tight with a spool of string, placing it in the pack himself so Plyrith didn’t risk touching even its wrapping.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding in Pablo’s direction.

“Not a problem,” the man smiled. “It’s what I keep them for, after all. Now, are you staying for tea?”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t stay, instead moving on in their quest, continuing to fly northwards. Although they travelled by day settlements were strictly avoided whilst Massa was in his original form so as to prevent too many rumours about an Elder Kind being sighted. At night they hid in the forests, setting up camp beneath the shelter of the trees. It wasn’t much of a comfortable rest, with thin bedrolls laid on hardened and root-interrupted ground. Massa let himself radiate heat to keep Plyrith warm, which was how he came to be wrapped in the prince’s arms as they reclined back against a thick tree trunk.

“So what is that for?” Plyrith asked, watching Massa mindlessly twirling a short rod of copper between his fingers. They had collected it earlier that day in a town from a metalsmith that didn’t speak a word of any language they knew, which gave rise to great difficulty as Massa insisted on specific dimensions for the copper.

“Hmm? Oh, this is payment.”

“In copper? For whom?” Plyrith was baffled. Sure, copper was used for coins but only those of the lowest value, besides which it looked like Massa intended to keep it in its current form.

“For whomever performs the ceremony,” the blond replied as if it were common sense. “Traditionally, one has seven officiators and they each get one of seven metals, but with a noble presiding you have to choose which metal to give them.”

“Why copper then? Would gold not be better?”

“Copper represents love, so it’s the preferred option for binding ceremonies.” Massa huffed and settled further into Plyrith’s hold. “It’s mostly symbolic. Don’t fuss over it.”

The prince nodded, content to just watch Massa stargazing even with the limited view of the sky. The reality of what they were doing finally sank in and a surge of emotion flooded his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He was going to spend his life with this man. This Elder Kind. Innumerable nights like this, knowing Massa’s very being was calling him to run and be free. The desire was always there, behind the blue of his eyes, at every waking moment. Plyrith was selfish chaining him with a human form to keep him close, and Massa allowed it. Whomever had decided to join their destinies was a cruel person, and yet Plyrith wouldn’t have it any other way. He would bind this dragon, this power, to himself and never let go until the day he died, all for the sake of loving him.

Trying to distract his mind from the possessive notions coursing through it, Plyrith followed Massa’s example and looked to the stars. Only a few lights were visible, scattered amongst the gaps in the leaf canopies as they made their best effort to shine away the darkness. The sight of it reminded him of the witchwood trees, bringing memories of the strange man protecting them to the forefront of his musings. “Say, that Pablo was a bit odd, wasn’t he?”

Massa shrugged, taking the abrupt conversation in his stride. “Anyone would be with someone else living in their head.”

“I suppose so.” A leaf detached from its twig, red with autumn and taking its sweet time to flutter to the ground. “I wonder how the next host is chosen. Is there some sort of compatibility do you think?”

Massa twisted to look at him, eyebrow raised. “There isn’t going to be a ‘next host’. Pablo is the only one there will ever be.”

“So he lied to us?” Plyrith frowned.

“No, he thinks it’s the truth. That Lola is a sneaky one; she overwrites his memory once in a while, so Pablo won’t notice his aging has slowed. He must be safely past three hundred now.”

Plyrith’s face morphed to an expression of surprise. It made sense though – the old clothes that fit perfectly were a fairly decent clue. “How did you work it out?”

“Lola. She’s not as weak as he believes. I suspected, but she also told me.” He tapped the side of his head with the copper to emphasise his point. “Anyway, Lola said that there was once a noble residence on the next continent. It’s the best place for us to start, so that’s why we keep heading north.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that straight away?”

Massa snorted. “Well it isn’t like you’re the one flying us there, is it?” He prodded the inner side of Plyrith’s arm gently. “Go to sleep. I don’t want you yawning all day tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” the prince smirked, leaning in for a goodnight kiss.

 

* * *

 

Being a prince of Croath, Plyrith had encountered seas before, but they were nothing compared to the ocean they had to cross. Roiling waves, steel grey and broken by white foam that was flung so far up it managed to reach them, stinging his skin like minuscule blades. Massa was forced to fly low so that the chill air didn’t bring an untimely death upon his partner, placing them at the same level as the seabirds (he quite readily snatched them up when they encroached on his path). Plyrith was reminded that despite his father’s long reach of rule there was so much more out there, countries that knew nothing of King Etarip, and vast forces of nature like the ocean that could best him.

It was no wonder the king didn’t expand his reign northwards. The distance from shore to shore was almost too much even for Massa, taking a full two days to cross with nowhere to rest along the way. As soon as land peeked into view, Massa’s wingbeat started to stutter and it was only Plyrith’s presence that kept him from plunging into the freezing water below. Barely had they made it over solid ground than the dragon began to plummet, speed raising and sending them crashing through yet another forest. The purchase Massa’s scales provided wasn’t enough to keep Plyrith where he was and the prince was cast off along the way, colliding with one branch after another until he blacked out.

Not for long though. Plyrith gasped in shock as he sat up, breath swirling in clouds before him. He scrambled to his feet, hissing at the feeling of all the bruises he would have tomorrow and, more noticeably, the long gash down his left arm that was weeping red. Staggering, he moved into the area of forest that was now cleared, a swathe of brown trunks and mud marring the scenic treeline dusted with white. With his good arm he brushed snow off of the closest fir and packed it against his wound, holding it there to staunch the bleeding as he limped toward the end of the deforested line; along the way he picked up any belongings that had been thrown loose like himself, hooking them on his elbows or holding them with his teeth among other creative methods of carrying them whilst both arms were preoccupied. His goal lay, human, in the last stretch of visible earth, still with enough strength to maintain his second form but not to do anything else. Upon approaching him Plyrith dropped all he had collected in favour of reaching for the rest of their pack which had managed to land near the blond. From it he retrieved the two blankets, and a cooking knife which he used to cut long strips out of one. It wasn’t the best of bandages but it would have to do so he bound his arm with the fabric. He stashed everything else back into the pack and slung it on his back, wincing as something in it pressed against a bruise between his shoulder blades.

With as much strength as he could muster, the prince used the second blanket to cocoon Massa, scooping him off of the ground and fighting the agony in his arm. His partner was in greater trouble than he was, barely conscious at all even as he called for him by Agnomen. Plyrith’s mind jumped to a snapshot image of a settlement he’d seen as they fell and he resolved to head for it since it hadn’t seemed too far away from their current location. He set off immediately, taking comfort in the living heater he was cradling.

The trek felt longer than it must have actually been, and halfway through snow began to fall on his head, crowning him with white until it melted into his dark hair. By the time the town was actually in sight again they must have looked completely disheveled and certainly in no state to present themselves as having any relation to royalty. It seemed the settlement was accustomed to travellers as the inn was clearly signposted, the building itself in good condition, pristine white walls sectioned by the age-darkened fir timbers of its foundations. Night had already fallen and the sound of merriment echoed from the tavern across the street; inside the inn a single lamp was still lit, guiding tenants back to the entrance despite their inebriation. Plyrith knocked at the jamb with his foot and waited as the innkeeper came to answer, somehow still holding on to Massa with only willpower. He was so tempted to relax, now that they were somewhere safe, but if he did then they’d both be passed out in the street till morning.

Finally the door opened and a plain looking man in his forties blinked up at him, concern rising on his face as he saw the limp body Plyrith carried. “Do you have a spare room?” the prince asked. Exhaustion must have weighted his voice because the concern morphed into sympathy.

“I do. Come in out of the cold.” The man’s voice bore an odd accent Plyrith had never heard before, and it dimly crossed his mind that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that the local language might have prevented this man from understanding him. “What in the world happened to you two?”

“Long story,” Plyrith huffed.

“Bandits?” Receiving no sign of confirmation, the innkeeper gave up on questions and hurried to his desk, snatching up a set of keys to hand over. “Your room is upstairs, third door on the left.” He smiled politely as he led them to it, abandoning his doorside vigil in consideration of the fact that Plyrith had no hands free.

“How much?” the prince inquired tiredly but the man shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll discuss it tomorrow, when you’re actually awake, yes?” He even had the audacity to gently push Plyrith into the room, placing the keys on a cabinet by the door before leaving again. Groaning, the prince dropped Massa on one of the beds and shrugged off the pack, not caring where he put it. Dully, he locked the door - even lethargy didn’t stop him being wary - before removing Massa’s damp blanket and swaddling him in the ones provided, the inn obviously well prepared for the cold.

By this point sleep had a firm hold of his mind and Plyrith could do no more than manoeuvre himself to the other bed in the twin room, collapsing upon it without another thought.

 

* * *

 

It was already late morning by the time Plyrith registered the light streaming through the window. Sighing, he rolled onto his back and sat up, gazing around at the room. He was a quick waker, and thankful for it as recollection of the previous day streamed into his mind. Putting a hand to his wound he found that it had reopened during the night, finally soaking through the makeshift bandage and staining the inn’s sheet red. He got up and staggered to the bathroom, which was suitably fitted though not extravagant. A sponge and bucket full of clean water had found their way there and Plyrith was glad for them; he untied the blanket from his arm and peeled it off, crusted blood flaking to the floor. Wetting the sponge, he cleaned the wound, taking care to remove any bits of debris that had managed to stick in it and holding back a hiss every time he had to pull a splinter out. By the end of it all the injury didn’t look quite as bad but that certainly didn’t mean it was any less debilitating.

There was a fresh set of bandages on the counter and he snatched them up, using his good hand and teeth to wind them around his wound. It occurred to Plyrith that the innkeeper must have had a spare key and entered the room while they slept, but given how helpful he had been the prince wouldn’t hold it against him. Upon reentering the room proper he noted how their pack had been pushed to the wall in an attempt to make it neat and another two blankets covered Massa, who was still sleeping. Plyrith padded over to check on him; the blond was still out cold, not looking to wake any time soon, but significantly more stable than the previous day. Deciding it was safe to leave him there, Plyrith switched his clothes for a clean set and headed downstairs.

Now that he was fully awake, the prince paid more attention to the lobby. It was pleasantly clean, decorated with inoffensive (if a little sappy) items such as wood carvings of flowers and paintings of the forest. To one side was a door that led into a communal room, propped open by a hedgehog statuette to show the guests sat around tables and chatting over light drinks. Opposite this room was a reception, behind which was another door that presumably separated off the innkeeper’s room from this one. The moment after he looked at it the door opened, the innkeeper from the night before shuffling out with a small bag in hand. He caught sight of Plyrith watching and smiled.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said, weaving out from behind the desk and to the front door, which he pulled open and left as such as he stood in the street. Curious, Plyrith peered out at him to see many other people behaving similarly, standing by the fronts of buildings as if waiting for something. He followed the innkeeper outside, and the man glanced sideways at him.

“Is there a parade or something?” Plyrith queried, trying to equate this seemingly rehearsed waiting with an event he had experienced himself.

“Not exactly. Look.” The innkeeper politely directed his gaze toward the end of the street that led out of town, toward the forest and the same way the prince had come the night before: moving down it in a solemn line were a host of robed men, their white attire embroidered with extravagant depictions in golden thread. Hoods rested on their heads, shrouding their faces and making it difficult to differentiate one man from the other by anything but height. A wicker basket hung on a rope between two of them and as the procession reached a waiting inhabitant they would rush over to the basket and place a bag in it, like the one the innkeeper carried.

“Who are they?” he asked in a bit of an undertone, aware that some form of donation or collection was being made and therefore not wanting to draw attention to himself.

“Priests. The Order of Ika,” the innkeeper explained. “They’re a peaceful lot, always on the move. A group comes by every now and again.” The line was almost upon them now and the man made his move forward, temporarily abandoning Plyrith at the doorstep. The leader of the priests had shown no reaction to anyone until now, yet as he passed he turned his head to meet Plyrith’s eyes, the prince discovering that everything about his face was concealed by a mask. It was a mere second of a connection and then it was broken again, no fuss made, leaving a peculiar feeling that the priests knew something he didn’t.

Plyrith was fixated on them at this point, staring at them with no pretence that he wasn’t. He counted eight priests with golden designs go past, and after them came another seven people in plain white robes. The latter lot appeared to hold a greater range of age, some of them clearly children despite their faces being directed to the ground and the hoods covering them. “Who’re those lot?” he asked when the innkeeper returned, nodding his head in the direction of the undecorated robes.

“Initiates. Orphans usually, or people seeking redemption.” The innkeeper squinted up at the sky. “Come inside – it’s going to snow soon. It always does after they’re here.”

“It does?” The prince followed him inside, leaning on the counter as the man headed behind.

“Yes, people say it’s a holy sign.” He pulled open a drawer and checked something inside of it before glancing up at Plyrith. “How long will you be needing your room?”

“Don’t know. Can we pay by each day?” He tapped his finger on the counter, trying to make sense of the spectacle he’d just witnessed. “You don’t seem so sure about the ‘holy sign’ thing,” he stated.

The innkeeper shrugged. “I can charge each night, but the price is a little steeper. I just need to take your name for my register.”

“Plyrith.”

“Right. You can call me Hyko, in case you were wondering.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The innkeeper – Hyko – sighed, pulling a register out of another drawer and scribbling Plyrith’s name onto it with that unexpectedly sophisticated manner he seemed to run the whole place with. “I think the Order has raised a unique dragon species, one nobody knows about.”

“Quite an advanced way of thinking for a town like this,” Plyrith smirked, finally getting somewhere.

“I used to be a traveller back in the day,” Hyko confessed. “I saw a lot of things. Someone I was with spoke your language, which is why I can. I could see you wondering.” He put the register away and leant with his back against the counter, crossing his arms and content to chat whilst looking over his shoulder. Plyrith was duly concerned that he had been read so easily but given how intelligent this innkeeper seemed to be it should only have been expected. He’d even prepared for Plyrith’s inevitable wound-cleaning earlier.

“You’re very good at it.” The innkeeper nodded his thanks at the compliment. “Speaking of travelling, where exactly are we? We managed to get our directions rather mixed up out there,” Plyrith said casually, trying to not sound suspicious, though it seemed like Hyko had seen through it since he smiled knowingly.

“This town is Flygendal. The country, which is what I think you’re asking, is Yauvron.”

“Yauvron?” Plyrith’s eyebrows automatically raised, a switch in his brain flicking and tongue preparing to produce sounds it usually didn’t. “I can’t say I expected that.”

Hyko laughed as he heard his own language spilling from his guest. “And you say I’m good,” he joked, reverting to what felt natural for him, now that he knew he could. “If I didn’t know better I would think you were raised here. I didn’t think Croath had enough interest in Yauvron for anyone to learn.”

Plyrith grinned. “An ambassador knew the language, so I got him to teach me. You never know when you might need it, right?” He had wanted it for purposes of kingdom expansion, but wasn’t going to say that to the innkeeper’s face. It was convenient though, knowing that he could communicate with anyone he came across in this country so far removed from his own.

“Right,” Hyko agreed pleasantly. “So your companion upstairs, is he one of those many brothers of yours? Does he speak Yauvron too?”

“I’m not sure if he does, to be honest,” Plyrith admitted, uncertain as to whether Massa had ever lived anywhere other than in that cave by Fallholt. “And he’s just a… friend, not a broth–” He froze during the last word, realising exactly what it was Hyko had asked him. The fact that he’d mentioned ‘many brothers’ meant that the innkeeper was aware of Plyrith’s regal status, a revelation that greatly unsettled the prince.

“Oh, a friend?” Hyko continued, covering Plyrith’s slipup with a wink that acknowledged just how much he’d worked out. “Yes, I know the kind of ‘friend’ you mean. Perhaps you should check on him?”

Plyrith fixed him with a stare, stepping away from the counter, vaguely aware of the other guests behind him in the communal room. “Yes, I ought to do that.” With a sharp turn on his heel he headed for the stairs.

 

* * *

 

When Massa’s eyes finally opened he stared at the ceiling for a long while, brain trying to catch up with the situation he found himself in. Eventually he rolled onto his side, groaning, and caught sight of Plyrith who was sat on the other bed and watching him closely with concern written on his face.

“What time is it?” Massa grunted, wrestling with the clunky phonetics that Plyrith knew he wasn’t a huge fan of at the best of times, let alone in the addled state he currently occupied.

“A few hours after noon,” the prince replied. In the time he had been waiting for his partner to wake it had begun snowing outside, piling white against the windows and dropping the temperature; Plyrith stubbornly refused to steal one of the blankets to keep warm, relying on his jacket to retain heat.

“Grand,” Massa muttered sarcastically, roughly pushing his hair out of his eyes and revealing the black cross on his forehead. “Sorry for landing like that.”

Plyrith shook his head. “No, I understand. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be tired after flying so far, and you did put us down close enough to this town for me to walk here. Ah, do you speak Yauvron?”

The blond shuffled around the bed in a motion to sit up, pausing and raising an eyebrow as he noticed his lack of clothing beneath all of the blankets but not actually saying anything about it. He let the covers remain on his lap as he righted himself, maintaining a least some modicum of modesty despite there being no need to, given there was only Plyrith in the room with him. “I do, as it happens. Not a huge amount, but enough. Is that where we are then?”

“Yes, in a town called Flygendal.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Neither had I.” Plyrith’s face formed a light frown and he stood, pacing over to the window and straining to see features of the street through the heavy snow, bursts of wind catching the flakes and creating flurries that he could almost imagine as a creature slinking through the precipitation. “The innkeeper here… he’s worked out a lot about us. If you think you’re ready to leave, then I believe it would be best to do so soon.”

“Is the innkeeper the man that let us into the inn?” Massa queried, Plyrith replying with a simple nod. “Then there’s no need to worry.”

The prince turned to him, startled and sceptical. “What makes you say that?”

“I was a bit hazy last night, as I’m sure you’re aware, but I managed to catch his Agnomen when you talked to him.” The dragon ran a hand over the top blanket, admiring the natural pattern it bore. “Agnomina can tell you a lot about a person, and there are some very special Agnomina in the world; his tells me he’s trustworthy.”

“What is it then?”

Massa shook his head. “I won’t tell you and you know that.”

“Well, it’s always worth a try,” Plyrith smirked. “Never know when you might slip up.”

“Come here,” Massa ordered, shaking his head in mock exasperation whilst a grin attempted to make its way onto his face. “You look like you’ve frozen.”

 

* * *

 

Now that Massa had vouched for Hyko, Plyrith allowed himself to be less cautious around the man, even offering a pleasant greeting as they headed downstairs in order to visit the tavern across the road with the intention of getting both dinner and information from the locals. The innkeeper glanced up as they passed his desk, smiling as he saw Massa was now up and about but asking nothing about why he had been in such a state in the first place, instead offering a simple well-wishing that the evening would be a good one.

The tavern (called ‘The Iron Wolf’ by Plyrith’s translation) was a particularly rowdy one, stuffed with men and women who had escaped there once the snow had lightened to talk about the weather and the priests and other such topics that interested them. It was the perfect place to gather information, and the pair quickly integrated themselves with a table through means of drink, somehow managing to order steak for their sustenance. Plyrith exchanged hunting experiences with those who had stories of the ilk, whilst Massa gathered an enraptured audience with folk tales he had memorised before they were lost to time as well as some completely original yarns too. Though he presented an inviting atmosphere, Plyrith noticed the dragon prodding his food with a manner that indicated his distaste for the situation, as well as for the meat itself since it was cooked through and not to his liking in the slightest.

Their guise was that of a storyteller and his guard, which seemed to be an effective cover, though the woman at the seamstresses earlier was quite dubious about them when Massa gave some strangely specific instructions for a ‘scarf’ he’d wanted made (actually one of the items required for the binding ceremony). That exception aside, Plyrith was thankful that this town saw a lot of travellers since they received less suspicion over their origin than one would normally expect, not to mention his Croathic gold being accepted despite the barman having only seen it in passing before. If anyone thought it odd that Plyrith’s fund for drinks never seemed to peter out then they didn’t voice any doubts, so he simply continued to ensure they were all loose-tongued to the point that they began offering their own stories for Massa to add to his supposed collection, some tales they had been told by their parents as children and some rather peculiar events that were their own inventions or encounters. Massa entertained them all, but only one caught his full attention.

It was when an already inebriated man joined their gathering – his name escaped Massa but he got the impression that he was a supply runner who maintained links with the neighbouring towns.

“It’s local history,” the man slurred, insisting that Massa understand that fact. “History, not hearsay. About the castle in the mountains.”

Not previously interested, Massa’s attention was suddenly focussed on this story as a string of muttering and nodding ran through his audience as they approved the story that was about to be told. The consensus intrigued him, so he put on another smile. “Oh? That sounds fascinating. Tell me about it.”

“There’s a mountain range that cuts off our peninsula, and there’s a castle in the mountains,” he set, failing to see how irritated his repetition made Massa. “We call it Isthmus. It was the home of the lord that managed this region, until a few hundred years ago.” Some of the crowd were leaning in, intent on the story, so Massa copied their body language. “A monster attacked the castle to take it for its own, slaughtering everyone there and eating them, including the lord. But one person survived. One person lived. The lord’s daughter was adept in magic and cast a protection spell on herself, keeping her safe from the monster by freezing her own time.”  The man looked pleased with himself and took a swig of his ale. “They say that the Lady of Isthmus is still waiting to be freed, and that whomever defeats the monster will have all the riches of the castle for their own.”

“Fascinating,” Massa commented, mostly faking enthusiasm but also sensing the thread of truth in the tale. “I’ll certainly be telling that one from now on.” A rush of excitement passed through the crowd and they all tittered with pride that their tale would be heard all over the world, as Massa had made out that it would be. He subtly placed a hand on Plyrith’s knee to indicate that he wanted to leave and they both wrapped up their conversations with as much haste as seemed natural, hurrying back into their room at the inn.

“You got a lead?” Plyrith asked the moment the door was locked.

“I think so,” Massa nodded, forcing himself to resist the grin that threatened to emerge at the mere thought of finding someone of his own kind. “A castle, called Isthmus. Apparently, a monster has taken up residence there.”

“And how do you know it’s an Elder Kind?” Plyrith queried, not wanting Massa to get his hopes up.

“A beast that can overrun a castle that’s probably heavily guarded, not to mention survive several hundred years? Very few creatures fit such a profile.  There is a strong possibility that this so called ‘monster’ is who we’re looking for, or another clue toward them at least.”

“If you say so,” Plyrith agreed hesitantly. “When do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. If we go right before dawn we should be able to take off close by without anyone seeing me.”

 

* * *

 

Compared to how long they had flown before, it seemed no time at all until they approached the mountain range despite Massa’s lower speed to conserve energy. Having paid for the days they had stayed in Flygendal, Plyrith had packed up all their belongings in preparation for the possibility they might not need to go back, and now they found themselves dropping altitude to get a better look at the mountainside. Neither of them knew what kind of castle they were looking for, given the cultural differences, but they needn’t have been worried – the cragged surface of rocks was broken by enormous pillars in the same slate grey as everything around them, walls stretching between the monoliths and presenting a large gate and courtyard. It was a peculiar sight and it almost looked as if the ground itself had absorbed a quarter of the structure, Plyrith observed as Massa prepared to land in the middle of the courtyard. Snow kicked up as his feet hit the ground and the prince clambered off, the pair of them carrying out their usual routine for Massa to become human again.

As the blond put his clothes on, Plyrith wandered around the courtyard. It was unexpectedly large, and empty of freestanding decorative features like plants or statues. That wasn’t to say it was plain though, as closer inspection of the colonnade that surrounded the area revealed extensive carvings of unique symbols and patterns that were of a style he had never seen before. At the northern end of the courtyard stood a huge set of doors made to intimidate and show off, he reckoned, since similar could be found at his own home. “You may as well have stayed a dragon,” Plyrith joked, nudging Massa as he did so. Honestly, this entrance did seem large enough for an Elder Kind to fit through.

“Yes…” Massa agreed, but his voice was far away, as if listening to someone else’s conversation. He glanced around the courtyard suddenly, eyes narrowing as he set his gaze on the pillars of the colonnade. “They’re here. There’s an Elder Kind here.”

Plyrith was only somewhat surprised. Massa had been acting a tad peculiar ever since they had first reached the mountains, so he figured that his partner had picked up on something. “Are you sure?”

“I can feel them,” Massa explained, but his face said more than his words did. He was elated. Whether because they might have found a noble to perform the binding ceremony or simply encountered the home of another of his breed Plyrith wasn’t certain, and the prince wasn’t about to admit his trepidation at meeting another Elder Kind if that particular creature was rumoured to have eaten the entire populace of the castle. Letting Massa take the lead, the pair headed toward the grand entrance, noting with unease that one half was slightly ajar, just enough to allow a human to fit through.  Elsewhere perhaps, and at another time, this wouldn’t seem too odd, but it didn’t fit with the story of Isthmus that they had been told; no one could come near the castle thanks to the residency of a ‘monster’, and yet there were a few belongings scattered about the ground – dropped, forgotten – that were of a style only twenty years old. There was no way they came from the inhabitants several hundred years prior.

The two of them slipped inside and suddenly the sound of the wind cut off, the air still and stagnant. Surprisingly, the entry hall they found themselves in wasn’t dark despite being enclosed and casting their gaze upward revealed a string of small windows where the ceiling met the walls, impossible to reach by human means. In this room were the first signs of the purported struggle: suits of armour cast about the floor, tapestries torn from their hangings, deep gouges in the stone where an Elder Kind must once have been. There was no movement now though, not even that of rats.

“Do you see it?” Plyrith asked his companion, quite simply because it felt like something was pressuring him to.

“If by ‘seeing it’ you mean _not_ , then yes.” The problem was not so much everything that was strewn about the once magnificent vestibule, but the fact that among it all there wasn’t a single body. There were blood stains and scorch marks everywhere and yet not one corpse remained from the altercation, even as a skeleton, which created a sense of uncertainty in Plyrith as to what actually occurred there. “This way,” Massa instructed, leading him toward another set of doors at the other end of the room that were just as large as the one they’d passed through moments before but more decorative, studded in metals and carved with more of the same patterns on the columns outside. This pair of gates was closed, but closer inspection revealed a human-sized door set into the left one.

It was locked, but that didn’t concern either of them. Plyrith snatched a halberd off of the ground and slammed it into the lock, splintering the fixture away from the wood and causing the door to swing open with the extra force. A waft of warm air spilled out and the pair shared a glance to acknowledge it. Massa stepped past the prince and through the rectangular gap, halting inside and staring across the room. Curious, Plyrith joined him and found himself stop too.

The room was far larger than the one they’d just been in, obviously the main hall and one of the key features of the castle. The vault stretched far above them, the clerestory directly below framing it with light and enabling a dramatic cast of shadows on the carvings and sculptures residing at such a height. Buttresses spaced the length of the hall, each one sporting a sumptuous frieze the likes of which could not be found in Croath. Every part of the room’s structure was carved out of the same slate coloured stone and it took a moment for Plyrith to finally realise that, in actual fact, the hall had been excavated directly from the mountain itself, the walls presenting no seams between bricks and veins of ores of rich hue ribboning through the rock, catching the extra light and glistening as though they were liquid. The hall was both extravagant and threatening, a clear display of power and authority as well as culture. And yet, none of these features were what had caught Massa’s eye.

From the centre onwards shone a pile of silver, armour stacked upon armour until it reached a peak three-quarters of the way through the room and quite blatantly not supposed to be there. Curled around the crest was a great dragon, buried in parts by metal but far from unnoticeable, its pure white scaling contrasting the surroundings and bringing it to the forefront of the scene. Though smaller than Massa’s real form, it was still leagues larger than any modern dragon and the sight of it was nothing less than threatening. Motionless upon their entry, it almost seemed to be dead until Massa took another step forward; it stirred, a cacophonous clanking resounding from the walls as armour was upset and toppled down to the stone.  Claws made themselves known and kept tight hold of the mound as the dragon twisted its head around to face them, its body held close to the armour whilst its neck stretched out and brought a bared set of vicious teeth closer to the pair. The white creature stared at them both for a long while, almost as if waiting for one of them to move so that it had an excuse to attack.

“Cousin,” Massa greeted in a manner that Plyrith could only assume was a formality, since the blond had never mentioned any family besides his grandfather before. Then, to the prince’s surprise, Massa sank to his knees and lowered his head. The white Elder Kind’s eyes snapped to Plyrith, a low grumble starting in its chest as he stared straight back at it. More terrifyingly, however, was the look Massa gave him, blue eyes burning through his skin until he got the idea and copied the kneeling pose. “Forgive him, for he is young,” Massa said. Plyrith gritted his teeth at the obvious insult being thrown his way but said nothing.

“ _You are no man,_ ” the dragon stated, and Plyrith noted in surprise that the voice sounding in his head was female. Though he could hear, the comment was plainly for Massa, and he could almost imagine that the expression it – she – currently wore was of suspicion, despite the scales of her face barely moving.

“ _Indeed not_ ,” Massa agreed, raising his head. “ _We have travelled far to find you and request the audience of the lord here.”_

_“It is I,”_ she confirmed. “ _For I am the only one remaining. You may rise, Bringing the Great Dawn.”_

Plyrith wouldn’t lie; it was beyond peculiar to hear Massa’s Agnomen in a voice that was neither his nor his partner’s and it unsettled him, though he did his best not to show as such. Copying the blond again, he stood and a hiss of anger spilled from the white dragon.

“Lady, he means no disrespect,” Massa hurriedly apologised. “You know he is human, so please overlook his mistakes.”

The Elder Kind’s head swung toward Massa, then to Plyrith. “ _Fine. You may stand, Horizonborne.”_

Massa relaxed, crossing his arms and dropping a lot of the tension he had previously been holding. “Lady, if I might ask, what shall he call you?”

“ _I am Chaz, of family Blaea,_ ” she responded. Massa’s face lit up subtly in a way that Plyrith had come to understand was delight. Given the formality of the conversation and the Massa’s reaction to her common name, it was safe to guess that they had managed to find one of the nobles.

“I am Massa, one of your kin,” the blond replied, then shot a look to Plyrith.

Catching on, he completed by stating, “I am Plyrith, prince of Croath.”

The dragon studied them both for a while and then seemed to finally accept the pair, releasing her tight grip on the armour that had warped far out of shape now. She shifted her weight away from them and moved into a more sedentary pose, raising her head away from their level. The alteration brought the front of her underbelly into view and it now made a great deal of sense as to why she had stuck so close to the metal mountain – a long wound ran a slight diagonal across her centre, the edges of flesh an unhealthy shade of puce, encompassed by a ring of shattered white. Massa made a noise of both concern and anger at the sight, causing Chaz to glance down at her injury as if surprised he’d bothered to look at it. “ _Do not worry. It is old and mostly healed.”_  The air around her distorted and, realising what she was doing, both Massa and Plyrith turned to face the door. There was another clattering of metal as she descended to the floor, then the creaking of unoiled hinges as she opened something; after a short while more, she finally instructed them to face her again.

Plyrith had known to expect a female form but he was still shocked upon seeing Chaz as a human – with Massa it was easy to accept because he was an adult, but this girl was a _child_ , barely more than fourteen years if he had to guess, long silver hair hanging flatly around the youth on her face. Suddenly her comment about being the ‘only one remaining’ hit home as he realised that she carried the same burden as Massa, if not a heavier one. Added to which she was injured, the edge of her wound peering out of the neckline of the plain dress she now wore. It looked more like it had healed on her human body but it was nothing to laugh at; Plyrith had seen some of his brothers die from the same type of injury before.

“Follow me,” Chaz instructed and Massa nodded, obediently taking after her with his partner a step behind him. She led them into a smaller room that branched from the side of the hall through a normal-sized door, lighting lamps to reveal a meeting area with chairs and cushions. She settled into the largest seat, placing her hands over the arms and watching them as they sat opposite.

“We heard a story, on our way here,” Massa began. “That the castle was attacked by a monster and the lord’s daughter survived by freezing her time. That is you, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” she confirmed. “Though I am sure you realise that your story does not hold the truth. We _were_ attacked by a monster – humans.” Her eyes jumped to Plyrith and narrowed into a glare, obviously not comfortable with his presence. “They would not have gotten into the castle alone, however. We were betrayed by one of our own in return for his prosperity. And likely a perverse enjoyment.” Her hands tightened on the chair, pulling at the fabric to the point where it appeared ready to tear. “I lost my family, my home – and I received this wound that I have been sleeping for nigh on one hundred and fifty years to heal. _Human magic._ ” She spat the last words in disgust but it seemed more directed at herself for letting it affect her so much.

“There have been humans here since then though?” Plyrith queried, remembering the items near the entrance. Chaz clearly wasn’t too sure how to take his up-front attitude, but eventually decided to go along with it.

“I wake every decade or so. When I do, there are always people here. So I eat them.” She didn’t smile as she said it, presenting it as more a statement of simple fact rather than a vengeful or abhorrent act. Plyrith glanced at Massa to see how he responded to it and was caught off-guard by the nonchalant expression on the blond’s face, as though consuming people was a completely normal activity. “They are my sustenance until I next wake. I have eaten every human from the invasion, and every human since then if they run.”

“And if they don’t run?”

Now she smiled. “They _all_ run.” She leant back into her chair and returned her gaze to Massa, resuming her aura of civility. “Tell me, Massa, why are you here? I have seen no others of my kind since I have slept and found myself certain that I was no longer of consequence to the remainders of our brethren.”

Massa cast his eyes downward, wondering just how much she had missed whilst being trapped in Isthmus. “I’m afraid the cause is more serious than your supposed lack of importance, lady. The Elder Kind is extinct but for a few. You are the only other living one of us I have seen since my grandfather’s death.”

Chaz sat silent for a while. “Is that so?” she said eventually, trying to come to terms with the information he had brought her. “I was little more than a child when we were attacked, but I do remember the mentions of our decrease even then. I cannot say this is good news.”

“I am aware of that,” Massa agreed. “But lady, even as a child did you know the rites of our kind?” Plyrith could hear the beginnings of worry in his partner’s tone and knew he feared that, even having found a noble, she wouldn’t be able to help them accomplish their goal.

“I knew every story and every ceremony,” Chaz said with an air of deep-rooted pride. “I was the heir of the Blaea family; it was my duty to know. Which rite is it that you want from me?”

Massa’s eyebrows quirked downward in confusion. “A binding ceremony, obviously.”

“Oh? With whom?” She glanced around as if expecting another dragon to appear out from the walls.

“You don’t…” Massa stared at her in bewilderment which soon morphed into a bitter sadness. “Do you not see? Can you not hear it?”

Chaz scowled at him as though suspecting he was trying to disrespect her. “See and hear _what_?”

Massa pushed his fringe out of his face and exhaled loudly. “Both my hearts beat, Chaz,” he said, dropping every semblance of formality that he had tried to maintain (Plyrith was surprised he’d managed it so long anyways, given how quick he was to threaten the nobles at Etarip’s court). “Surely you know what that means? Horizonborne and I are destined.”

Her face froze in shock. “You and– you and a human?” She looked back over at the prince and studied him intently. “I did not know such a thing were possible!” Plyrith found himself increasingly concerned that she would get up to prod him in examination or something of that ilk.

“I was surprised too,” his partner admitted, leaning forward to meet her eyes better. “I think you have been asleep for too long. You have lost touch with the world. Chaz, both your hearts beat as well, and yet there is no sign of another Elder Kind residing here, nor have you mentioned their existence in your memories.”

Chaz flinched at his words, clearly recalling something that she had cast to the back of her mind likely because the thought of it frightened her. “There was no one… I hadn’t…” She took a deep breath to reassert herself, brain quickly processing all she’d been told and combining it with her own memories that she had once rejected. “I had not met my soulmate when the castle was attacked. I found my second heart active after one of my wakings, but I do not know who caused it.” She tapped her fingers on the arms of the chair, thinking. Eventually she seemed to reach a decision about something and sat up a little straighter. “I will perform your ceremony,” she stated, “on the condition that you find the cause of my heartbeat. I must know them.”

Massa hesitated a moment before nodding, not even looking at Plyrith to see what he thought. “I accept your terms. We will ensure they are found.”

 

* * *

 

“How do we find someone we know nothing about?” Plyrith huffed as he and Massa wandered through the hallways. They had left Chaz behind to provide her a chance to attire herself more appropriately for a human form and were now getting their bearings in the castle. They had already discovered that it was larger than it appeared from the outside as the structure actually ran down through the mountain itself, becoming less and less human in design the further in they went.

“That’s not entirely true,” Massa returned, keeping a deliberate light tone to his voice. “We know they were here, probably in the last eighty years or else they’d be dead and her heart would have stopped again.” They moved into a bedroom that was recognisable as such; they were probably in the guest wing, given the degree of decoration and grandeur. Massa crouched next to a chest and lifted the lid, peering in at the contents. Plyrith watched him closely.

“You know…” he began, “the person we’re looking for is a human, right?”

Massa nodded, abandoning his search for clues in the chest and instead bending to see the underside of the bed. “Yes, I am aware. Chaz is too.”

“But she hates humans, doesn’t she?”

“Well, she does intend to kill whomever we bring here,” the blond said matter-of-factly. “Though I have no doubt she’ll change her mind once they actually meet.” He straightened up and sighed, face pulling into a pout.

Plyrith moved to the bed and sat down, crossing his arms. “You don’t think we’ll find them,” he stated, reading Massa like an open book. The blond sighed again, dropping down next to him and lazily placing his head on the prince’s shoulder, threatening to topple him over with his weight.

“Not a chance. If I saw them I would maybe know them by their Agnomen, but where to look… for all we know, they aren’t even in this country anymore.” His eyes slid shut. “I bet you wish Talutah were here. I’m sure she has a spell of some kind to locate people.”

Plyrith uncrossed his arms and wound one around his partner. “Would she be helpful? Yes. But that does not mean that we need her. Perhaps Chaz remembers something that might help.”

“Perhaps,” Massa muttered. There was a quality to his voice that implied he needed sleep so Plyrith said nothing more to him, keeping immobile; it wasn’t long before he lost consciousness. Clearly his flight over the ocean was still affecting him, rest a delayed debt he needed to pay. The prince gently leant them both backward so that they were lying down, two pairs of feet sticking out over the end of the bed. He would get up in a moment, continue the search without Massa, but for now he just wanted to take a moment to marvel at the creature he had managed to capture: his soft blond locks, his fair features, the black mark on his forehead that was the only physical suggestion that he wasn’t what he first appeared to be. Plyrith couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if he hadn’t met Massa in that forest by Fallholt, had never seen that face as they fell into the stream… It was times like these that he – though not particularly religious – offered a silent prayer of gratitude to Curtia for bringing them together.

Plyrith wasn’t sure exactly when he dozed off but he knew that he _had_ , his eyes opening to the sight of someone standing in the doorway that had been left open. He sat up abruptly, reaching for his sword, until he remembered where he was and the situation and relaxed again. Chaz stared at him through all of it, gaze boring a hole through his head as if she were trying to kill him with mental power only. She had exchanged her simple shift for a more elaborate dress that fit her status, the white lace overlayer imitating the scales of her true form. Her injury was no longer visible, hidden by a higher neckline and long sleeves; she had also added footwear to her ensemble and her hair was partially tied back, threaded with exquisitely crafted crystal flowers. Like this, Plyrith could even imagine her as the daughter of a high-ranking advisor in his father’s court, and she truly gave the impression that she owned the entire castle.

He shuffled awkwardly under her study, unsettled by the lack of movement in her body. Massa did this too sometimes, usually when he was disgruntled by someone and was planning their demise. In the case of servants, the examination usually meant they were about to go missing and, given the blond’s lack of response to Chaz proclaiming her dietary habits, Plyrith finally understood where they’d disappeared to. “Can I help you?” he asked when there was still no sign that the girl would move.

“I don’t understand,” she stated, so softly that he had to strain to hear it. “Is this the state of the Elder Kind, that we need humans to protect us?”

Plyrith glanced down at the prone form of Massa, who had curled up into his usual sleeping pose and had managed to remain asleep. Then he looked back up at the other dragon in the room. “He does not need me to protect him, nor does he let me. Massa has the power to follow through with every choice he makes and it just happens that he chose to stay by my side."

Chaz's facial expression changed only minutely, though if he had to hazard a guess as to the expression she intended he'd say she was frowning. "I do not comprehend that either. Why?"

Plyrith sighed. There's was obviously no point trying to explain it to her, not because she was dull-witted but because she didn't appear to have any understanding of human culture or emotions; that was what happened when you were trapped in a castle alone for a century and a half. "You will understand it someday. Soon," he amended, forcing himself into presenting the belief that they would be able to find her soulmate even if prospects were grim as of right then.

Chaz opened her mouth as if to say something more but at that point Massa stirred, shifting and blinking lazily up at Plyrith. It took a moment for him to process the current situation but as soon as he had he sat up, leaving a thin gap between himself and the prince that meant they weren’t quite touching. “Lady,” he greeted, a hint of question in his tone; understandably, he was perplexed as to why she had been watching him sleep, even if it were a circumstantial coincidence. “Did I interrupt something?” was his way of asking why in the world she was there without sounding rude.

Plyrith made to answer but Chaz got there before him. “Not at all. I was just passing by on my way to check the time. It’s something of a habit of mine.”

Massa’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not quite buying it. Plyrith didn’t really understand why Chaz was trying to conceal the nature of the brief conversation but he rolled with the story, despite the fact that his partner could clearly tell she wasn’t being entirely forthright. “There are clocks everywhere. Are they not sufficient?”

Surprisingly, Chaz actually smirked at this comment. “Not that kind of time. Please, feel free to join me.” She made a slight gesture to indicate that they follow before turning on her heel and progressing down the corridor. Massa and Plyrith shared a brief glance before getting to their feet, not certain what it was they were going to see. Though she had a head start, it didn’t take them long to catch up. With nary a word Chaz led them down wide hallways and up an inordinate number of staircases with a steadfast pace and no hesitation about which direction she should take. After Plyrith lost count of the stairs multiple times they found themselves at the dead end of a flight that had spiralled enough times to make even the strongest stomach queasy, on a landing with only a small wooden door to progress through. In a practised motion Chaz pulled a key from the thin belt hanging loosely at her waist and unlocked the door, opening it inwards.

The temperature immediately dropped as the room was met with the elements, wind hastening in and circling several times as it found no exit. Unperturbed, Chaz stepped out onto a bridge wide enough for only one human to cross and, assuming it was safe, the two men copied her. Plyrith couldn’t help but notice that the bridge had no supports beneath it, having been hewn straight from the mountain like the rest of the castle and fusing directly into the isolated tower they now proceeded toward. The rails on either side came up to just above waist height and were carved into patterns so delicate that it looked like they would break the moment one gust of wind pushed anyone against them, and the stone was so flawlessly polished that it bore more than a passing resemblance to glass. Plyrith warily glanced over the edge and was met with a dizzyingly large drop to a jagged mountainside below, covered in the same snow that was swirling merrily around them and sticking to their clothes and hair like it was trying to paint them all white.

Chaz noticed his hesitation and paused to see what it was that had distracted him so, casting her gaze downward to understand his concern. “It will not break,” she promised. “I have crossed this bridge many a time and can inform you that it is has never broken. Although the snow can make it difficult to find purchase - I must admit that I almost slipped last time. But the bridge itself is perfectly sound.”

Plyrith couldn’t help being sceptical but he held back any comments about it since the lack of shielding meant the chill air was rapidly increasing his desire to get to the other side. “If you say so.”

The girl offered no reply, simply resuming her calm walk to the door on the tower side and opening it with the same key as before. As she stepped inside she brushed the snow from her dress and warned them to watch their steps. Plyrith was grateful for the caution because he couldn’t deny that he might have walked straight onto the large circle of missing floor in the middle of the tower. Instead, he edged around with his back to the wall to join Massa and Chaz as they stared at a large clock face that he somehow hadn’t managed to notice. Over a metre in diameter, it was made from a light grey material he couldn’t place that seemed to shimmer slightly every time he moved his attention across it; a simple rod ran below it and down through the hole in the floor, which he now presumed was for a disproportionately sized pendulum. A series of mirrors placed around the remaining tower above them strategically channelled light from somewhere so that the face was gently illuminated and the single hand cast no shadow. Rather unusually, there were only ten major graduations on the clock, between which were three smaller marks; the hand was currently pointed just before the fourth major.

“What is this?” Plyrith queried, aware that the mechanism before him probably didn’t display the time of day.

“A decade dial,” Chaz stated simply. “I suppose it might be the only one remaining now.”

“My grandfather said he had one once,” Massa commented, examining the contraption with veiled wonder. “See,” he sidled over to Plyrith and pointed so that he was understood properly, “it makes a complete cycle every decade – hence the name – and each of the big marks is one year, and the small ones indicate which season it is.” Plyrith railed slightly at the dumbed down explanation but didn’t complain.

“I customarily wake in the summer of the fifth year, but I suppose the presence of one of my kind was enough to rouse me early.” Chaz seemed to be reading more from the clock face but neither of them could imagine what that might be.

They all spent a little while just staring at the oddly mesmerising dial before Plyrith’s mind decided to notice what was wrong with what Chaz had just said. He frowned, thinking it through before deciding to ask her directly to make sure he hadn’t jumped to any mistaken conclusions. “It’s summer whenever you wake? Including last time?”

Chaz titled her head in confusion, wondering what he possibly could’ve been confused by. “Indeed.”

“But didn’t you say it _snowed_ last time you came here?”

“I… did.” She frowned, and Plyrith couldn’t blame her for not quite making the connections – anyone would be out of it if they slept for ten years at a time. Even Massa was perplexed, for even though he could recognise the inconsistency he couldn’t work out what Plyrith saw in it that he didn’t.

“What is it?” he inquired, urging his partner to share what he had discovered.

“It may be nothing but I think we have our first clue. Clearly it’s not natural for there to be snow in the summer time, not even at this height. But back in Flygendal there was this religious group, and I was reliably informed that it _always_ snows wherever they go.”

Massa’s mouth quirked sideways. “You think they were here.”

“It looks that way. So perhaps the lady’s soulmate is among them. Or they may at least know something about them.”

“I find it unlikely that anyone who came here managed to hide from me,” Chaz said, though her face betrayed no sign that she’d taken offense at the implication, “but it is certainly worthy of investigation. Do you happen to know this group’s name?”

“The Order of… Ice, or something like that.” Plyrith hadn’t really been paying full attention at the time.

“Order of Ika?” Chaz supplied, her eyes narrowed.

“Sounds about right, yes.” When it became clear that she wasn’t going to offer anything more on the matter, he instead turned to his companion. “So what do you say? Shall we head off straight away?”

 

* * *

 

Hyko stared at the pair as the blond leant against the counter, fixing him with an equally direct look in return. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” he greeted with a smile, shutting the door to his room carefully behind him. “Will you be staying here again?”

“Not this time,” Plyrith replied.

“We just wanted to know where we might find the Order of Ika,” Massa continued, leaning a tad further across the counter. Plyrith hadn’t noticed before how oddly inflected Massa’s Yauvron was compared to his own, but since Chaz spoke the same way he supposed it was an older form of the language.

“The Order?” Hyko glanced between them curiously but didn’t press for any details when none were given. “They headed west. Shouldn’t be too far out – three days at the most. They might be hard to track though, what with the snow and all.”

Plyrith smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ve accounted for that. Thanks again.” He nodded in gratitude before moving to the door and holding it open for Massa to pass through. With one last quick goodbye to the innkeeper he too exited, folding his arms across his body so as to keep himself warmer and wincing as the motion agitated the wound on his left arm. He had quite forgotten about it, but he really ought to be careful. Somehow Massa didn’t seem to have noticed the injury yet, though since it wasn’t particularly important Plyrith didn’t see much need to bring it up. The pair strolled leisurely out of the town so as not to arouse suspicion but they were painfully aware that they were being stared at by some people they recognised from the tavern the other night – likely they had guessed that Massa and Plyrith had intended to go to Isthmus and were curious as to why they were back already.

As soon as they were out of town Massa changed form. Having not bothered to bring their packs, Plyrith merely wrapped the blond’s clothes up in one another and held on to them as they flew low above the trees, keeping a keen eye out for any indication of the Order. Any tracks that should have been left were covered by a heavy layer of snow which would have made things impossible on the ground, but from their vantage all they needed to do was follow the path of most snowfall, which was quite noticeable when one knew to look for it. Before long Massa sighted signs of a camp and circled back a little before landing. It was unlikely the priests would react well to an extraordinarily large creature dropping into their midst so it was best that they approach as unassuming travellers.

The Order had stopped in a small clearing for the night, and some were setting up ingenious folding tents whilst others were busying themselves making a modest meal. Unlike when Plyrith had seen them before, they were all conversing with one another quite happily, though the degree of their happiness was difficult to gauge with the masks and hoods concealing everything about their faces with the exception of the eyes. None of them seemed to notice as the pair grew close, but as they stepped into the clearing the situation changed with stark rapidity. The snow on the ground rose straight up and began to flurry angrily around them, faster and faster to the point that they could no longer see anything ahead or around them; Plyrith could hear Massa cursing beside him and moved closer to the sound so as not to lose his companion even whilst white stabbed at his eyes, making them sting and instinctively squeeze shut. Ice grated against his skin like it was trying to tear it off and Plyrith couldn’t help but cry out as a ring of daggers punctured his left leg, followed by another one on the opposite shoulder and then one on the same forearm. A crushing pressure was applied to all of them and he realised that he was currently being bitten by something, absently noting that Hyko had been right about the dragons. It was chaos on all sides and even Massa was suffering if his profanity was anything to go by, and Plyrith imagined he saw the blond trying to shake something loose from his own arm.

“ _Enough!_ ” The command cut through the clamour and straight into the mind as Massa finally decided not to put up with the abuse. Almost instantly the localised blizzard dropped like a curtain and the teeth in Plyrith’s flesh were removed, allowing a flow of warm blood to tumble out of the bites for a second before they froze over in irregular lumps. He had to take several deep breaths in order to steady himself – though the prince had experienced worse pain, usually he had the time to mentally prepare himself for it. This had been too sudden, without warning.

When Plyrith finally turned his focus to their situation he was met with the eerie sight of a circle of concealed faces surrounding them, alternating randomly between the priests and the initiates. Some of them seemed quite prepared to fight and nearly all had narrowed eyes bearing confusion and distrust. There was no sign of the dragons capable of controlling snow but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still close by, lurking but hesitant to attack again now that Massa had asserted his power. Speaking of which, the Elder Kind was positively seething with indignation and looked ready to slaughter anyone who made a wrong move.

“You should not have followed us,” stated the head priest, the severity of his voice only adding to the tension.

“We did not mean any harm,” Plyrith attempted to pacify. “I was informed that you were a peaceful order. Am I to assume I was misled?”

“I saw you in the town, Flygendal,” the priest continued, ignoring the question entirely. “I knew you were a danger then.”

The prince frowned, placing his fingertips on Massa’s arm to keep him steady, aware that the snow around his feet was melting. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you. I am merely a traveller seeking information.”

“There is a great power attached to your soul,” the priest said accusatorily, as though he could see something they couldn’t – interestingly, it didn’t appear that he was bothered by Massa. Perhaps he didn’t see that much after all. “No mere travelling man could obtain such a thing, and no good man would keep it.”

Plyrith glanced sideways at Massa to find the blond staring down one of the initiates, somewhat on the small side. “What is it?” he asked his companion in an undertone.

“We’re lucky,” he said smugly. “It’s that one.” He raise his arm to point and a collective twitch passed through everyone except the initiate and the head priest.

“You’re kidding me,” Plyrith said, incredulous. “It was that easy? Really?” He moved toward the child but drew up short as something streaked past him, twining rapidly up the initiate until it reached their shoulder. It was a dragon – at least, he assumed it was, since he’d never seen one like it before. About the length of a large dog, the beast was rake thin with gangling limbs, a mottled white in colour that made it barely indistinguishable from the snow. A crest of crystalline scales ran down its spine and jutted from its elbow joints, flaring as it raised its narrow head and hissed. Furthering the show, its jaws opened wide and long needle teeth snapped forward as if spring-loaded, a pair of vivid yellow eyes glaring at Plyrith and daring him to come closer. The prince figured it was reasonable for him to back off for now.

“As you can see, we are not defenceless,” the head priest commented, satisfied by Plyrith’s retreat. “You and your friend would do best to leave and return to your lodgings in the town.”

“Oh, we’ll return, but not empty handed,” Massa growled. “We’re taking the kid with us.” “ _Horizonborne, I am about to cause a distraction. Do what you need to get the child,_ ” he instructed even as the priest protested the possibility that one of their brethren could be taken by force.

“ _But what about that thing_?” Plyrith asked, not even needing to explain what ‘thing’ he was referring to.

“ _You’ve already been bitten several times – what’s once more? Now let’s get on with this!_ ”

The prince sighed as his concern was waved away. Sure the teeth were excruciatingly painful but in all honesty the small dragon didn’t appear to be built for fighting, and the head priest’s words had held a ring of bluff all along. Plyrith had an inkling about what Massa was going to do and wasn’t disappointed as the blond began to shift forms right in the midst of the priests who were now all wide-eyed in horror. They turned tail and ran, though none of them screamed or tripped over their robes like one might expect; the exception to this was the initiate themself who, even if they’d taken the chance to flee, was prevented from doing so by Plyrith’s firm hand landing on their unoccupied shoulder. Surprisingly, the head priest actually attempted to free them but simply ended up with a fist in his face and the promise of many bruises from his resulting fall.

Plyrith was not in a good mood. The second he’d caught the child that overprotective dragon had sunk its teeth into him with an inordinate amount of hissing and spitting in vain attempts to ward him away. Not wanting to take any chances he clocked the kid with enough force to knock them out instantly, something he’d learnt how to do after a rash of his youngest brothers’ poorly attempted assassinations several years back. The robes on the initiates made it very ambiguous as to their genders, so as Plyrith hoisted his hostage over his shoulder he noted with some satisfaction that they were in fact male – not that it particularly mattered to him whether he’d just attacked a girl or not. Massa’s head snaked around to rest on the ground as his tail kept the priests away, staying there just long enough for Plyrith to make it to the hollow on his back. As the Elder Kind took off, the prince laid out the boy in front of him and the vicious little pest detached itself from his arm to take up stance on the body. Plyrith liked to think the creature was scared now that it had seen its larger counterpart.

Flying back to Isthmus didn’t seem to take any time at all but somehow evening had turned to full night when they eventually landed in the courtyard, a change which Plyrith hadn’t noticed. Massa pushed his way past the huge doors in his giant form, depositing his passengers inside the antechamber where it was warmer. Plyrith leant the boy against the wall, glad that the dragon had decided not to attack him this time, as Massa closed the doors and then reverted to his human form, devoid of clothing; his distraction hadn’t afforded time to undress and thus a perfectly serviceable set of attire had been ruined. “It seems as if Chaz is asleep,” he stated, sensing the state of his kin. “You make sure the kid is fine while I find something to wear.” Plyrith merely nodded, not missing the opportunity to watch his partner leave.

“Well, let’s see what we’re working with,” he muttered to himself, reaching out to the boy’s head whilst keeping a close eye on the beast he hadn’t had a choice about bringing. The dragon’s mouth was open to hiss at the intrusion of space but the creepy teeth hadn’t been deployed, persuading Plyrith to continue. He pushed back the stiff hood to reveal a shock of unnaturally rich blue hair which he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at – was it dyed? He couldn't think of a chemical that could produce such a bright colour in hair and the texture of it suggested it wasn't dyed, which was unsettling, but that was a question for later. After a failed attempt to pull down the mask the initiate sported, Plyrith discovered fastenings on either side of it hidden behind the ears and untied them before studying the boy’s face. It was quite unremarkable, balanced and unblemished, and his age was oddly unplaceable; the prince could only guess he was somewhere about his early to mid-teens. His eyes were lightly closed like he’d gone to sleep rather than been forcefully rendered unconscious and the resting expression was dangerously disarming. It was a stark contrast with the personality of his pet.

“Hmm, good enough.” Massa’s voice announced his return and the blond crouched down next to his partner, either unaware of the focussed attention he was receiving or choosing not to acknowledge it. Since the blond preferred commoner clothes for ease of movement Plyrith rarely got the chance to see him in well-tailored finery, but there was no doubt that the centuries-out-of-fashion clothing that he’d probably retrieved from the closest guestroom suited him _extremely_ well. Plyrith made a mental note to show him exactly what he thought of it later.

His inappropriate train of thoughts was interrupted by the awakening of the initiate whose face automatically scrunched up as he regained consciousness, the small dragon producing a previously unheard tittering noise that might have been concern. When his eyes finally opened it took him a second to register the presence of other people, whereupon he pushed himself further back into the wall, glancing between the pair.

“What’s your name, kid?” Massa asked bluntly, not wasting any time.

Understandably, the boy hesitated for a moment before divulging the information. “Seth,” he said tersely.

“Right. And you know where you are?”

“Isthmus,” he answered after a cursory examination of the room and its distinctive decorative style. “If I might ask, who are you?”

Massa was thrown slightly by the politeness of the question, not to mention the calmness of the boy despite his situation. “I’m Massa, and grumpy here is Plyrith.” At a nudge the prince realised he’d been frowning for the past minute, though he’d had very good reason to be confused by Seth’s jacinthe irises. “We were asked to bring you here to meet someone.”

“Oh. Right now?”

“Tomorrow. For now we just wanted to make sure you weren’t too damaged, what with the whole kidnapping thing. You look fine, so get up.” Massa stood, prompting them both to copy his example. Seth had to crane his neck backward to look up at the blond, even more so for Plyrith. “ _Let’s just get him to the closest bedroom and lock him in there._ ”

“ _Got it.”_ Plyrith turned to head toward a small door that would lead to a servant’s corridor, opting to avoid the main hall for now. “This way,” he instructed, quickly leading the boy to his temporary prison and finding it amusing how obediently he obeyed. He held the door open for Seth to pass through and pointed out where the clothes chest was should he happen to want to abandon the robes before promptly shutting the door and locking it with the master key Chaz had provided them with earlier. “That was anticlimactic,” he said, smirking. Massa rolled his eyes.

“I’d rather that than having to spend weeks tracking him down. Come on, I want to go to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

Plyrith woke to the pain of fingers prodding at his wounds and the irritated scowl of his partner who had somehow managed to rise before him. “Ow,” he said simply, partly as a question when the blond didn’t let up the torture. The sheets of the bed they’d claimed now bore several bloodstains from when his injuries had reopened during the night and a disordered pile of bandages was close to falling onto the floor, untied whilst he was asleep.

“How long have you had this?” Massa queried, running his fingers down the length of Plyrith’s left arm.

“That one? Since we crashed in the forest.”

Massa’s expression darkened. “But you didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t see any need to,” he shrugged.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yes, especially with someone poking at it.”

“I’m sorry about this. These too.” His tracing moved to the closest of neat semi-circular dragon bites which smarted a great deal more. “They’re my fault.”

Plyrith sat up abruptly, startling Massa. “What _are_ you talking about? Is not your fault that you were tired after flying over the _ocean_ , nor was it your fault we were ambushed by a pack of vampire pests that neither of us had ever encountered before.”

“But you wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you hadn’t come on this journey with me.”

Now it was Plyrith’s turn to frown, his free hand grabbing Massa’s jaw to stop him from turning his head away. “ _Something’s wrong. What is this really about?”_ The pair stared each other down, each refusing to blink. Eventually, Massa sighed.

“I don’t like being the reason you’re hurt. And if we go through with the binding ceremony then I can’t promise you’ll come out of it unscathed.”

“What?”

“There’s never been a binding between our kind and a human before – I didn’t even know humans _could_ be our soulmates. There’s no telling what might happen to you as a result, and if you die because of it… because of me…”

Plyrith’s eyes were wide in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not. There’s no prerequisite for this sort of–”

“No, I mean; are you seriously getting cold feet about this? You? Of all people?”

“What? No, I–”

“You absolutely _are_. Listen, did you really think I wouldn’t know there might be some danger in this? Even Talutah warned me about the magic of it before we left. Massa,” he moved his hand to the side to card his fingers through his hair, the blond instinctually leaning into the comforting gesture, “I chose this. I chose _you_. So stop acting like you’re the only one responsible for this.” He leant in to gently plant his lips on Massa’s, not retreating even after the kiss was over. “ _I love you, my Bringing the Great Dawn. No matter what happens.”_

“ _I hate you, Horizonborne._ ”

Plyrith smirked, jabbing his fingers at Massa’s forehead where the black cross mark was concealed by an untidy fringe. “Liar. Now come on, are you going to help me replace these bandages you so helpfully removed or what? There’s spares in my pack.”

The Elder Kind pouted as he rolled off of the bed to rummage through the bag for the replacements; once found, he returned to the mattress and sat cross-legged beside his partner and began binding the long gash he’d been agitating in the first place. “You’re an idiot,” he grumbled as he worked.

“Oh, high praise,” Plyrith chuckled before wincing as the cloth was wrapped a tad too tightly for a turn. “Should I expect more compliments today or is that a one off?”

“If you don’t shut up then you might find yourself somewhat more injured than before,” Massa threatened. In response, Plyrith mimed sealing his mouth and looked away, allowing him to work in peace.

For a little while, at least. “Do you think Chaz will really try to kill Seth?” he asked as Massa crossed to the other side to do his right arm. The blond snorted.

“Of course not. She just thinks she can do it because she hasn’t consciously met him yet. It’ll be fine.”

“I sure hope so. That Seth seems like a nice kid. Polite.”

“Maybe that’s just because he thought we might murder him.”

“I don’t think so. It almost looked like he knew why we brought him here.”

“If he did then he’d be remarkably more sensitive to magic than most.”

Massa finished tying off the cloth and sat back to admire his work for a second before nodding to himself in satisfaction. Again he disembarked from the bed, taking the dirtied bandages with him and tossing them out of the way into the corner of the room. Then he headed to his own pack and retrieved his spare shirt and trousers, pulling the loose clothing on with familiarity. “We ought to get up,” he prompted Plyrith, who was quite content to just watch him move about for a while. Massa puttered around the room collecting and folding the borrowed finery, pausing when he’d gathered it all before returning to his bag and stashing them away with an impish wink at his partner, who was increasingly less inclined to get out of bed.

 

* * *

 

For some reason Plyrith followed the courtesy of knocking before opening the door to their captive’s room. Seth looked up from where he was sat on a short stool, and the stringy dragon curled around his shoulders resumed its sibilating upon catching sight of the prince. Seth patted it on the head to placate it, adding a level phrase of ‘don’t be rude, Daniel’ as he did so. The exact words were hard to make out thanks to the mask covering his face.

“Time to go,” Plyrith informed, waiting for Seth at the door and not hiding his stares at the white attire. The pair fell into step walking down the corridor with the dragon – Daniel – scuttling like a desert lizard behind them with its body close to the ground and its claws clicking cleanly on the stone. “So is there a reason for all that?” the prince asked, gesturing to the mask and hood. Seth’s eyes punctuated the white with a friendly tone rather than the eerie one his fellows had given off back at the camp, which was something neither of the men had noticed at the time.

“I’m sorry; it’s just habit,” Seth replied, hurriedly uncovering his hair and untying his mask and smoothing it against his chest. “It’s because we’re not supposed to be recognisable to anyone outside the Order. This is a special situation, of course,” he amended, pre-empting the next question. He gazed around the hallway they were traversing with a mixture of awe and apprehension. “I always knew I would come back here someday,” he muttered to himself, but since the comment was loud enough to hear Plyrith decided to take it as conversation.

“So you remember being here before?”

“Oh, not very well,” he prefaced. “I wasn’t very old at the time. But this isn’t somewhere you can forget about completely.”

“What were you doing up here in the first place?” Plyrith had arrived on the back of a ridiculously large dragon – it had to be physically impossible for a young child to make it this far up a mountain.

Seth frowned lightly but only because he was trying to recall. “Several of the villages around this castle have a tradition of sending sacrifices up every decade, I think. I was probably in one of those. I don’t know what happened to the others but I ended up spending a week here on my own, until one of the Order’s Snowswifts found me and they picked me up. I’ve been with them ever since,” he ended, as if Plyrith couldn’t have worked that out for himself. He didn’t ask what a Snowswift was, assuming – from the sound of the word and the context – that it was the species of dragon the Order kept as pets or guards. He wasn’t entirely sure which. Maybe it was both.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, not hugely interested in the boy’s life story. “Here we are,” he announced, pushing open the human-sized door set into the Elder Kind-sized door and striding into the main hall, which looked exactly as it had before with the exception of an ornate silver chair placed at the foot of the armour pile. Chaz’s arms rested lightly on the supports but she was sat bolt upright, watching Seth intently as he approached; at her shoulder stood Massa, who was clearly doing his best to look intimidating. Seth shivered, so perhaps something about the tableau was paying off.

The pair made it to 3 metres away from the chair when Chaz stood, the hem of her dress skating silently over the stone as she approached them, her arm involuntarily outstretched toward the initiate. Her expression was somewhat dazed, perhaps perplexed by her sudden lack of desire to kill him or the need to keep him safe and close. She abruptly halted just before her fingertips made contact with his face, flinching and recoiling as she realised exactly what it was she was doing.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, diverting her gaze to Plyrith and forcefully lowering her arm with the air of someone trying to pretend it had never been raised in the first place. “My gratitude to you for bringing him here as required. In return, I shall grant your request for a binding ceremony.” It clearly took a great deal of effort for her to turn around and walk back to her chair – throne? – without even talking to Seth, but the boy seemed to have frozen up and stopped breathing entirely until Plyrith hit him on the back quite forcefully to kickstart his lung function. Massa was right; the kid was obviously sensitive to the magic given his extreme reaction compared to the prince’s own back when he first encountered his soulmate… then again, hadn’t he blanked out a little too?

“Um, are you hurt?” Seth said awkwardly, taking a step toward Chaz and pointing to his left collar to indicate the edge of the laceration that was just visible amongst the lace of her dress. “I could… I could help with that, if you’d like?”

“This wound is imbued with magic of the highest calibre,” Chaz replied, struggling to keep her speech formal and distant. “Unless you are a master of the healing arts, I fear you would not see any results.”

“I don’t know about master, but I’m just sort of, naturally good at healing people. Can I at least try?”

Chaz opened her mouth to refuse but hesitated, her eyes flicking ever so marginally to the side where Massa was standing, leading Plyrith to believe they’d just conversed silently. “You may make your attempt,” she allowed, nervously shifting in her seat. As Seth steadily advanced to her Massa sidled around to join Plyrith, standing close enough that their shoulders bumped against one another.

“Remind me to get him to heal me later,” Plyrith muttered under his breath. The situation was so tense that he didn’t raise his voice above the very lowest register of sound but Massa still heard, and nodded in response.

At the throne Seth was now reaching out to connect his hand with Chaz’s shoulder and a noticeable shiver ran through her as contact was made. A warmth emanated from the pair, a magic strong enough for even Plyrith’s dull senses to pick up on as the injury the Elder Kind had been trying to heal for the past century and a half vanished in a matter of minutes under the natural ability of one human boy. The warmth faded as he retracted his hand and Chaz’s eyes were wide as she stared up at him, incapable of forming any kind of thanks. Then with no warning she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling herself tightly against him with her eyes squeezed shut as she revelled at his mere presence. Seth panicked for a second at the gesture but it didn’t take him long to enclose her in his arms as well, settling comfortably into the embrace as a deep part of him recognised the sheer _rightness_ of it all.

“My, how innocent,” Plyrith chuckled quietly as he and Massa just watched the pair.

“Hush, you.” Chaz may have been older than any human but by Elder Kind terms she was terribly young, bearing the burden of an entire family on her back and alone for so long that it was no wonder she just wanted the comfort of a being that was part of her very soul. Massa was used to being able to touch his soulmate but even now, every time felt as important as the first time, a burst of life that he couldn’t achieve on his own. Chaz needed a chance to get used to that.

Eventually the pair separated, each of them wearing rather sheepish expressions as they remembered they’d had an audience. Chaz even took a step back as she faced the two men, though she didn’t seemed to have noticed her hand had become entwined with Seth’s at some point. “Gentlemen,” she said, attempting to distract everyone from what had just happened, “perhaps one of you would like to help prepare for your ceremony?”

“I’ll go,” Massa volunteered before Plyrith could, giving her a minute bow of deference to make her feel slightly less uncomfortable with the fact that she had just embarrassed herself in front of them. “ _Horizonborne, you should explain this to the boy. It will be easier for him to understand from a human perspective._ ”

Plyrith nodded, wondering where exactly to start.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t been expecting to be thrown out of the room whilst the two Elder Kind completed the necessary set up. Plyrith and Seth had both been relegated to the same adjoining room as when Chaz had first awoken, left to wait patiently with nothing to do. Seth had already exhausted all of his questions about the whole soulmate business and was now just mulling contently over the information as he stroked the Snowswift curled up in his lap. Plyrith was becoming more nervous by the minute, wondering if there was anything that had suddenly turned up that meant that the binding ceremony couldn’t go ahead. What if they’d forgotten to bring everything they needed? Or what if something horrible really did happen to him? The longer he had to think about it the more concerning it became, though he would of course show no signs of the turmoil to anyone. Besides, the last item they’d needed was a witness, a role for which Seth seemed perfectly qualified to perform. As a last minute check Plyrith patted his pocket to make certain its contents hadn’t fallen out somehow.

The door opened and he practically leapt up from his seat, much to the veiled amusement of Chaz, who beckoned for them to reenter the hall. “Follow me,” she instructed them both, leading them to her temporary throne in front of which was now a table made from a single flat slab of polished granite supported by some copper-coloured metal that was gilded and fluted at every possible chance. In the centre of the surface a circular basin was inset, made from the same metal as the table legs and reflective to the point that Plyrith could see himself in it from several metres away. On one side of the basin lay the items the pair had collected, neatly arranged with careful precision. Massa was stood patiently beside the table and Plyrith was sent to his side whilst Seth was instructed to wait at the end of the desk.

“Are you ready?” Chaz confirmed quietly, satisfied by their succinct nods in reply. “Then we shall begin.”

Immediately Massa reached for the copper rod he’d had made, holding it against his chest for a second before offering to Plyrith and indicating for him to do the same. Understandably hesitant, the prince copied the action before returning the metal to the blond, who obviously knew what he was doing. “Lady Chaz of the family Blaea, Our Last Legacy,” he said with force and clarity, taking extra care not to trip up over any syllable, “we beseech you to hold command over our Agnomina, to make one being of two and to confess this ceremony. Do you accept?” He held out the copper, which she took with both hands.

“I accept your plea.” She transferred the metal to her left hand and kept a tight hold of it, using her free limb to delicately pluck the witchwood branch from the table. It was looking a mite worse for wear but the berries still gave the illusion of emitting light; Chaz dropped the branch into the basin and retracted her arm quickly as a large flame materialised from nowhere and leapt high, startling Plyrith. Quickly the flame died down and settled at a manageable level. “All that is done now is truth, written into the world and into Aether for everything yet to come, with a witness to testify the moment itself. Who stands here as witness?” Her sharp gaze turned to Seth who balked slightly at the attention.

“Um… I am the witness?” he said, more as a question than a statement but it seemed to be acceptable as Chaz returned her attention to the pair directly in front of her, finally setting aside the copper she still held into one of seven barely noticeable indents in the table that prevented it from rolling onto the floor. Simultaneously, Massa picked up the scarf he’d purchased in Flygendal, a soft gold piece which he held loosely.

To Plyrith’s surprise and concern, Chaz promptly stretched her arms straight through the fire, distracting him enough that he didn’t feel Massa forcefully raising his own arm. The girl began to tie the scarf around their wrists in an elaborate knot, sliding fabric past itself in a pattern humans could never imagine even as the sleeves of her dress caught light and blackened beyond repair. The smell of burning silk spiralled through the air as she retracted her limbs, now bare from the shoulder down but entirely unblemished by the fire.

“Bringing the Great Dawn, I call you to exchange your soul.”

Plyrith was glad he didn’t have to respond to that since he hadn’t a clue what she meant by it, though Massa obviously did. The blond reached into his pocket and extracted a small leather bag no bigger than the palm of his hand, tied tightly shut, and held it toward the prince. “These are the bones of my sister, the only person I cared for after my grandfather,” he stated, dropping his volume and the rigid formality of the rehearsed lines. “I didn’t know her for as long as I would have liked but Curtia was precious to me, and the reason why I encountered you in the first place. You never met properly but I’m sure she would have loved you nearly as much as I do.” A bittersweet smile morphed onto his face as he reverted back to script. “This is my soul.”

Plyrith was dumbfounded for a second but the expectant faces of both Elder Kind prompted him to take the bag; as he grasped it he felt the bones inside shift against one another in a disquieted manner. He transferred it to his bound hand as Chaz spoke again.

“Horizonborne, I call you to exchange your soul.”

Guessing what he had to do from Massa’s example, Plyrith retrieved the item he’d been instructed to select and bring with him without consulting his partner, pinching the chain as he held it up for him to see. It wasn’t the most extravagant necklace he had encountered, just a chain bearing a simple cross pendant inlaid with black sapphires that reminded him of the marking Massa bore. “This belonged to the mother I never knew, left with me when I was born. I have no need to find her but I kept it anyway, as the hope of a life of real family should I want it.” He knew it wouldn’t have been difficult to trace the ownership of the trinket but he had never cared to. “I don’t need hope any more though.” He guided Massa to lift his arm and open his hand, lowering the necklace onto the blond’s palm. “This is my soul.”

“Witness, do you testify?” Chaz asked Seth.

“I… testify,” he responded in that hesitant tone Plyrith was beginning to understand was just a character trait of his. Chaz nodded marginally to him to show that he’d answered correctly.

“Bringing the Great Dawn and Horizonborne, this binding is recognised by all present. Aether will be aligned and your existence shall become singular. This is the command of my blood and the will of Aether.” Again she reached across the fire and grasped the material swaddling their wrists, yanking it back with her and into the flame. Plyrith did his best not to cry out in surprise at the sudden heat, feeling his skin burn as he was kept there and painfully aware that neither Elder Kind were suffering at all. The scarf was consumed by the voracious hunger of the fire and before long they were no longer connected and Plyrith took the first chance he got to extract his limb, glad he hadn’t ruined the rituals as Massa pulled back moments later. He cradled his forearm against himself, trying not to look at the mottled red and black discolouration and cracking skin and forcefully muting a whimper. “This ceremony is complete,” Chaz stated, allowing herself to smile genuinely. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Massa smiled in return.

“My pleasure.” She examined the singed edges of what remained of her sleeves, then passed her hand over the basin. The flame sank and vanished, taking with it the last remnants of the witchwood. And then things went very, very wrong.

The moment the fire went out Plyrith felt like someone had just skewered him through the gut, causing him to double over in pain, gasping and clutching at Massa for support. The burns he'd just sustained seemed laughable in comparison to  _this_. Immediately another invisible spear shot through his head and he cried out, dimly aware that his partner was fussing over him in a panic. Pure agony radiated out through his entire being, rushing through every vein and artery and growing in intensity every second, to the point where he was certain he was already dead. As Plyrith’s legs gave out the bag of bones was flung free from his grip and a detached part of his mind commented that it was very rude to drop someone’s sister before that train of thought was eradicated by the pain and he forgot about it.

“What do we do?” Massa yelled as he watched his companion begin convulsing on the floor, retching and bringing up blood as he suffered under the rebound of magic far too powerful for him to cope with.

“I can’t heal him!” Seth exclaimed, his own magic repelled before it could do any good. All he could do was watch as Plyrith’s body deteriorated, the previously stalwart man now writhing on the floor, screams alternating with shattered sobbing at an unimaginable level of torture. Even Chaz didn’t seem to know what to do.

“We can only wait this out,” she said eventually, not flinching at the murderous expression Massa turned her way as if daring her to suggest again that he couldn’t save Plyrith. “Horizonborne is strong. If anyone can withstand this, it is him.”

 

* * *

 

Plyrith didn’t know when he realised he was still alive. After that, he didn’t know how long it took him to reach a mental state aware enough to be called awake but slowly he was able to register Massa’s presence leaning against his side, sleeping from obvious exhaustion. His blond hair was dishevelled and the prince instinctively reached out to smooth it, causing him to bolt upright with alertness.

“Plyrith…” he breathed as he realised that his partner was still alive, before attacking the prince’s mouth with the fiercest, most desperate kiss he was capable of mustering. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he said angrily, though tears were threatening to decorate his face.

“What did I do?” Plyrith asked, confused as he registered the cold stone beneath him. So they were still in main hall. He shook his head lightly as he stared at Massa, who seemed to shine bright with life force that was beyond distracting. “You look weird, Bringing the Great Dawn,” he said, not finding any eloquent phrases in his mind to use.

It was Massa’s turn to look confused. “What? How so?”

“Kind of… shiny.” Plyrith turned his head to look across the room to where Seth and Chaz were waiting patiently, nauseous as he hallucinated the boy being surrounded by light that made Chaz pale in comparison. “Ugh. Past in the Present is making me ill,” he said, putting a hand against his eyes to cover them as he groggily sat up.

“What did you say?” Massa asked hurriedly.

“I said, Past in the Present looks like a _damned_ _sun_.” Plyrith’s hand was pulled away and his gaze was immediately met by two bright blue eyes not far from his own.

“How do you know his Agnomen? I never told you it.”

“What are you on about, Bringing the Great Dawn?” Honestly, he wasn’t nearly awake enough for this.

“Look, you did it again! Calling me by my Agnomen aloud! Plyrith, can you…” Massa studied him intently. “Can you _see_ them?”

“He probably can.” Chaz’s clear voice cut through their confusion as she approached, Seth quite tactfully staying back. “The quality of his soul has changed. To call him a human now would be quite inaccurate.”

Plyrith stared at her. “I’m not _human_ anymore?”

“Not entirely. Though I’m not certain to what extent you are Elder Kind, either.”

“That’s ridiculous, Our La–” Before he could finish addressing her Massa clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent the Agnomen being spoken.

“Perhaps you should take some time to get used to this,” the blond suggested, glad he’d made it in time to prevent Plyrith making the worst possible misstep of Naming a noble without permission. If Plyrith could see what he could, then it was understandable that his brain wasn’t keeping up with it yet; the Elder Kind had every moment from their birth to get used to the way they saw the world, but he imagined that the leap was quite drastic for a human.

“That sounds… necessary,” Plyrith admitted, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over him despite the fact that he’d only just awoken. Without any warning, he blacked out again.

 

* * *

 

Massa was lurking in the dark recesses of the castle archways, staying well away from the crowd but keeping his eyes fixated on Plyrith as he led Talutah out of the building. The prince could feel Massa was there without even needing to look but he threw his partner a wink anyway, an ostentatious one that made the blond roll his eyes. Talutah, in her rich dress of deep purple, caught the signal and smirked in response.

“Whatever shall I do, with you making eyes at another man on our wedding day?” she joked in an undertone, waving politely at her peers as they congratulated her for the successful marriage. “Do I have to be concerned?”

“Shut up, Talutah,” Plyrith replied, resisting the urge to call her Firelighter like he instinctually wanted to. After a brief period of adjustment at Isthmus, he and Massa had hurried back home just in time to satisfy the deadline they had near but forgotten about. Beyond the difference in sight, they couldn’t see if anything else about Plyrith had changed so it was unlikely they had to worry about anything other than minor slipups with etiquette - he’d already been bitten by several dragons who took offence at being called by Agnomen, but even those wounds seemed to heal quicker than they used to. Perhaps he also had the vitality of an Elder Kind now?

Massa met them at the carriage in the courtyard, his mere presence causing a wide berth between the guests and the new couple as they climbed in, Plyrith finally able to drop the forced grin he’d been wearing to hide his distaste for the meaningless people he was surrounded by. Each of them was a pallid, feeble firefly in comparison to Massa, though Talutah’s aptitude for magic made her bearable to look at. It was a difficult way for him to see everything.

“Thank the stars that’s over,” Massa huffed as he slammed the door shut behind him, locking them into the shade of the compartment. “If I had to suffer one more minute of that farce I swear there would have been a massacre.”

“There there,” Plyrith placated condescendingly, pulling the blond onto the seat beside him and letting himself be leaned upon. Talutah watched them smugly with her hands folded neatly in her lap, raising an eyebrow as Massa nuzzled into Plyrith’s neck but saying nothing about it. “It’s about time we got a move on, no?” He knocked on the roof of the carriage and seconds later was rewarded with the jerk of motion as they were carried out of the castle. If anyone else knew the true situation of the trio behind the curtained window then there would be public outcry, but as far as everyone was concerned he was married to Talutah, and that’s what he’d continue to let them think.

Plyrith turned his head to look out of the window as the town rolled past them, morphing into countryside as they made their way to one of the hunting lodges the king owned. There was the whole honeymoon period ahead of him, and he intended to make _full_ use of it.


End file.
